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CONTENTS. 


VOLUME    I. 

PA<3B 

Introductory, , 1 

CHAPTER  I. 
St.  Ambrose's  College, 8 

CHAPTER  H. 
A  Bow  on  the  River, 15 

CHAPTER  HE. 
A  Breakfast  at  Drysdale's, 81 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  St.  Ambrose  Boat-Club :  its  Ministry  and  their  Budget, 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
Hardy  the  Servitor, 61 

CHAPTER  VI. 
How  Drysdale  and  Blake  went  Fishing, 75 

CHAPTER  VH. 
An  Explosion, 97 

CHAPTER  VHI. 
Hardy's  History '. 107 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A  Brown  Bait, 128 


1  l<3 


IV  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

CHAPTER  X. 
Summer  Term, 13tf 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Muscular  Christianity, 161 

CHAPTER  XH. 
The  Captain's  Notions, .185 

CHAPTER  Xm. 
The  first  Bump, 206 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Change  in  the  Crew,  and  what  came  of  it, 224 

CHAPTER  XV 
A  Storm  brews  and  breaks, 211 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Storm  Rages, 257 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
New  Ground, 271 

CHAPTER  XVm. 
Englebourn  Village, 285 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  Promise  of  Fairer  Weather, 807 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Reconciliation,. 824 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Captain  Hardy  entertained  by  St.  Ambrose, 330 

CHAPTER  XXH. 
Departures  expected  and  unexpected, 843 

CHAPTER  XXm. 
*    The  Englebourn  Constable, 861 


TO 

JAMES     fiUSSELL     LOWELL, 

OP 

HARVARD    COLLEGE,    MASSACHUSETTS, 

THE  AMERICAN  EDITION  OF  THIS  BOOK 

IS  GRATEFULLY  DEDICATED, 

AS    A     SMALL    ACKNOWLEDGMENT    OF    THE    DELIGHT    AND    BENEFIT 
WHICH  THE  AUTHOR  HAS  DERIVED  FROM  HIS  WORKS. 


Lincoln's  Inn,  June  15,  1861. 
My  Dear  Lowell,  —  You  will  see  by  the  foregoing 
that  I  have  dedicated  this  book,  at  least  the  American 
edition  of  it,  to  you,  at  which  I  hope  you  will  neither  be 
surprised  nor  offended.  It  is  one  of  the  highest  rewards 
an  English  author  can  hope  for,  to  be  read  on  your  side 
of  the  Atlantic,  and  I  have  had  so  many  proofs  of  hearty 
and  kindly  sympathy  from  over  the  water  since  I  have 
taken  to  publishing,  that  I  feel  as  though  I  had  old  friends 
scattered  all  about  your  States,  and  think  of  New  England 
pretty  much  as  I  do  of  Yorkshire.  To  you,  as  the  fore- 
most of  such  friends,  —  though  unhappily  only  known  to 
me  as  yet  on  paper  and  by  photograph,  —  I  turn  when  I 

iii 


IV  DEDICATION. 

hear  that  the  last  sheets  of  proof  are  being  made  up  for 
Messrs.  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  cannot  resist  the  tempta- 
tion of  thus  associating  your  name  with  a  book  of  mine, 
as  I  have  already  over  here  had  the  honor  of  associating 
my  name  with  a  book  of  yours. 

The  book  itself  needs  no  comment.  Superficially  our 
youngsters  no  doubt  differ  from  yours,  and  the  lesson  of 
life  has  to  be  learnt  under  very  different  surroundings 
at  Harvard  and  Oxford,  in  'New  York  or  Boston  an.d 
London.  But  at  bottom  it  is  the  same  battle,  and  the 
Devil,  I  doubt  not,  has  just  such  subtle  ways,  with  you  as 
with  us,  of  keeping  them  back  from  steady  growth  in  pu- 
rity, and  manliness,  and  truthfulness.  But,  however  un- 
like one  another  the  young  men  of  New  England  and  Old 
England  may  be,  they  are  a  thousand  times  more  like  one 
another  than  they  are  like  any  other  human  creature  the 
sun  shines  on.  So  if  the  book  is,  as  I  hope,  one  which 
will  do  some  good  to  Oxford  and  Cambridge  men  if  they 
will  try  to  find  out  what  it  means  to  say,  however  feebly 
the  meaning  may  be  brought  out,  I  have  no  fear  but  that 
it  will  do  as  much  for  your  pupils  at  Harvard. 

But  enough  about  the  book.  It  seems  like  fiddling 
while  Rome  is  burning  to  be  talking  of  such  matters  now 
to  any  American.  My  dejar  friend,  you  cannot  know  how 
deeply  all  that  is  soundest  and  noblest  in  England  is  sym- 
pathizing with  you  in  your  great  struggle.  You  must  not 
judge  by  newspapers  or  magazines,  though  so  far  as  I  see 
the  best  of  them  are  speaking  decidedly  on  the  right  side. 
Not  so  warmly  or  decidedly  as  I  could  wish ;  for  this  our 
free-trade  notions  and  some  hasty  and  inconsiderate  speak- 
ing and  writing  on  your  side  will  account.  But  be  sure 
that  the  issues  are  appreciated  here,  and  while  we  see  the 
awfulness  of  the  task  you  have  in  hand,  we  have  faith  in 


DEDICATION.  V 

you,  we  believe  that  if  it  .can  be  done  you  will  do  it,  and 
we  wish  you,  from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  God  speed! 

The  great  tasks  of  the  world  are  only  laid  on  the  strong- 
est shoulders.  We,  who  have  India  to  guide  and  train, 
who  have  for  our  task  the  educating  of  her  wretched  peo- 
ples into  free  men,  who  feel  that  the  work  cannot  be  shifted 
from  ourselves  and  must  be  done  as  God  would  have 
it  done,  at  the  peril  of  England's  own  life,  can  and  do  feel 
for  you.  But  as  we  hope  to  get  through  with  our  own 
work,  as  we  would  ask  no  meaner  work  for  ourselves,  so 
we  rejoice  that  you,  our  brethren,  have  shaken  yourselves 
up  to  your  work,  and  have  put  your  hands  to  it  in  such 
grim  earnest  as  assures  us  that  the  old  blood  is  still  the 
same  despite  all  difference  of  latitude  or  longitude. 

And  so,  with  firm  faith  that  your  country  will  quit  her- 
self as  England's  sister  should  in  this  fiery  trial  time,  and 
with  all  good  wishes  to  you  and  yours,  believe  me  ever 
gratefully  and  most  truly  yours, 

THOS.  HUGHES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ST.  Ambrose's  college. 

St.  Ambrose's  College  was  a  moderate  sized  one. 
There  might  have  been  some  seventy  or  eighty  under- 
graduates in  residence,  when  our  hero  appeared  there  as 
a  freshman.  Of  these,  unfortunately  for  the  college,  there 
were  a  very  large  proportion  of  gentlemen-commoners ; 
enough,  in  fact,  with  the  other  men  whom  they  drew 
round  them,  and  who  lived  pretty  much  as  they  did,  to 
form  the  largest  and  leading  set  in  the  college.  So  the 
college  was  decidedly  fast ;  in  fact,  it  was  the  fast  college 
of  the  day. 

The  chief  characteristic  of  this  set  was  the  most  reckless 
extravagance  of  every  kind.  London  wine  merchants 
furnished  them  with  liqueurs  at  a  guinea  a  bottle,  and 
wine  at  five  guineas  a  dozen ;  Oxford  and  London  tailors 
vied  with  one  another  in  providing  them  with  unheard 
of  quantities  of  the  most  gorgeous  clothing.  They  drove 
tandems  in  all  directions,  scattering  their  ample  allow- 
ances, which  they  treated  as  pocket  money,  about  road- 
side inns  and  Oxford  taverns  with  open  hand,  and  going 
tick  for  every  thing  which  could  by  possibility  be  booked. 
Their  cigars  cost  two  guineas  a  pound ;  their  furniture 
was  the  best  that  could  be  bought;  pineapples,  forced 
fruit,  and  the  most  rare  preserves  figured  at  their  wine 
parties ;  they  hunted,  rode  steeple  chases  by  day,  played 
billiards  until  the  gates  closed,  and  then  were  ready  for 
vingt-et-une,  unlimited  loo,  and  hot  drink  in  their  own 
rooms,  as  long  as  any  one  could  be  got  to  sit  up  and  play. 


4  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

"The  fast  set  then  swamped,  and  gave  the  tone  to  the 
college ;  at  which  fact  no  persons  were  more  astonished 
and  horrified  than  the  authorities  of  St.  Ambrose. 

That  they  of  all  bodies  in  the  world  should  be  fairly 
run  away  with  by  a  set  of  reckless,  loose  young  spend- 
thrifts, was  indeed  a  melancholy  and  unprecedented  fact; 
for  the  body  of  fellows  of  St.  Ambrose  was  as  distinguished 
for  learning,  morality,  and  respectability,  as  any  in  the 
university.  The  foundation  was  not  indeed  actually  an 
qpenjone^  Oriel  at  that  time  alone  enjoyed  this  distinc- 
tion ;  but  there  were  a  large  number  of  open  fellowships, 
and  the  income  of  the  college  was  large,  and  the  livings 
belonging  to  it  numerous  :  so  that  the  best  men  from  other 
colleges  were  constantly  coming  in.  Some  of  these  of  a 
former  generation  had  been  eminently  successful  in  their 
management  0f  the  college.  The  St.  Ambrose  under- 
graduates  at  one  time  had  carried  off  almost  all  the  uni- 
versity prizes,  and  filled  the  class  lists,  while  maintaining 
at  the  same  time  the  highest  character  for  manliness  and 
gentlemanly  conduct.  This  had  lasted  long  enough  to 
establish  the  fame  of  the  college,  and  great  lords  and 
statesmen  had  sent  their  sons  there ;  head-masters  had 
struggled  to  get  the  names  of  their  best  pupils  on  the 
books  j  in  short,  every  one  who  had  a  son,  ward,  or  pupil, 
whom  he  wanted  to  push  forward  in  the  world  —  who  was 
meant  to  cut  a  figure,  and  take  the  lead  among  men  — 
left  no  stone  unturned  to  get  him  into  St.  Ambrose's ;  and 
thought  the  first  and  a  very  long  step  gained  when  he  had 
succeeded. 

But  the  governing  bodies  of  colleges  are  always  on  tho 
change,  and  in  the  course  of  things  men  of  other  ideas 
came  to  rale  at  St.  Ambrose,  —  shrewd  men  of  the  world  ; 
men  of  business,  some  of  them,  with  good  ideas  of  making 
the  most  of  their  advantages;    who  said,    "Go  to:   why 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  0 

Bhould  we  not  make -the  public  pay  for  the  great  benefits 
'  we  confer  on  them  ?  Have  we  not  the  very  best  article  in 
the  educational  market  to  supply  —  almost  a  monopoly  of 
it  —  and  shall  we  not  get  the  highest  price  for  it?"  So 
by  degrees  they  altered  many  things  in  the  college.  In 
the  first  place,  under  their  auspices,  gentlemen-commoners 
increased  and  multiplied  ;  in  fact,  the  eldest  sons  of 
baronets,  even  of  squires,  were  scarcely  admitted  on  any 
other  footing.  As  these  young  gentlemen  paid  double  fees 
to  the  college,  and  had  great  expectations  of  all  sorts,  it 
could  not  be  expected  that  they  should  be  subject  to  quite 
the  same  discipline  as  the  common  run  of  men,  who  would 
have  to  make  their  own  way  in  the  world.  So  the  rules 
as  to  attendance  at  chapel  and  lectures  were  relaxed  in 
their  favor ;  and,  that  they  might  find  all  things  suitable 
to  persons  in  then  position,  the  kitchen  and  buttery  were 
worked  up  to  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and  St.  Ambrose, 
from  having  been  one  of  the  most  reasonable,  had  come  to  be 
about  the  most  expensive  college  in  the  university.  These 
changes  worked  as  their  promoters  probably  desired  that 
they  should  work,  and  the  college  was  full  of  rich  men, 
and  commanded  in  the  university  the  sort  of  respect  which 
riches  bring  with  them  ;  but  the  old  reputation,  though 
still  strong  out  of  doors,  was  beginning  sadly  to  wane 
within  the  university  precincts.  Fewer  and  fewer  of  the 
St.  Ambrose  men  appeared  in  the  class  lists,  or  amongst 
the  prize-men.  They  no  longer  led  the  debates  at  the 
Union ;  the  boat  lost  place  after  place  on  the  river ;  the 
eleven  got  beaten  in  all  their  matches.  The  inaugurators 
of  these  changes  had  passed  away  in  their  turn,  and  at  last 
a  reaction  had  commenced.  The  fellows  recently  elected, 
and  who  were  in  residence  at  the  time  we  write  of,  were 
for  the  most  part  men  of  great  attainments,  all  of  them 
men  wha  had  taken  very  high  honors.  The  elector, 
1* 


6  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

naturally  enough  had  chosen  them  •  as  the  most  likely 
persons  to*  restore,  as  tutors,  the  golden  days  of  the  college  ; 
and  they  had  been  careful  in  the  selection  to  confine  them- 
selves to  very  quiet  and  studious  men,  such  as  were  likely 
to  remain  up  at  Oxford,  passing  over  men  of  more  popular 
manners  and  active  spirits,  who  would  be  sure  to  flit  soon 
into  the  world,  and  be  of  little  more  service  to  St.  Am- 
brose. 

But  these  were  not  the  men  to  get  any  hold  on  the  fast 
set  who  were  now  in  the  ascendant.  It  was  not  in  the 
nature  of  things  that  they  should  understand  each  other ; 
in  fact,  they  were  hopelessly  at  war,  and  the  college  was 
getting  more  and  more  out  of  gear  in  consequence. 

"What  they  could  do,  however,  they  were  doing ;  and 
under  their  fostering  care  were  growing  up  a  small  set, 
including  most  of  the  scholars,  who  were  likely,  so  far  as 
they  were  concerned,  to  retrieve  the  college  character  in 
the  schools  ;  but  they  were  too  much  like  their  tutors,  men 
who  did  little  else  but  read.  They  neither  wished  nor 
were  likely  to  gain  the  slightest  influence  on  the  fast  set. 
The  best  men  amongst  them,  too,  were  diligent  readers 
of  the  Tracts  for  the  Times,  and  followers  of  the  able 
leaders  of  the  high-church  party,  which  was  then  a  grow- 
ing one  ;  and  this  led  them  also  to  form  such  friendships 
as  they  made  amongst  out-college  men  of  their  own  way 
of  thinking  —  with  high  churchmen,  rather  than  St.  Am- 
brose men.  So  they  lived  very  much  to  themselves,  and 
scarcely  interfered  with  the  dominant  party. 

Lastly,  there  was  the  boating  set,  which  was  beginning 
to  revive  in  the  college,  partly  from  the  natural  disgust 
of  any  body  of  young  Englishmen,  at  finding  themselves 
distanced  in  an  exercise  requiring  strength  and  pluck,  and 
partly  from  the  fact  that  the  captain  for  the  time  being 
was  one  of  the  best  oars  in  the  university  boat,  and  also  a 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  7 

deservedly  popular  character.  He  was  now  in  his  third 
year  of  residence,  had  won  the  pair-oar  race,  and  had 
pulled  seven  in  the  great  yearly  match  with  Cambridge, 
and  by  constant  hard  work  had  managed  to  carry  the  St. 
Ambrose  boat  up  to  the  fifth  place  on  the  river.  He  will 
be  introduced  to  you,  gentle  readers,  when  the  proper  time 
comes;  at  present,  we  are  only  concerned  with  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  the  college,  that  you  may  feel  more  or  less  at 
home  in  it.  The  boating  set  was  not  so  separate  or 
marked  as  the  reading  set,  melting  on  one  side  into,  and 
keeping  up  more  or  less  connection  with,  the  fast  set,  and 
also  commanding  a  sort  of  half  allegiance  from  most 
of  the  men  who  belonged  to  neither  of  the  other  sets. 
The  minor  divisions,  of  which  of  course  there  were  many, 
need  not  be  particularized,  as  the  above  general  classifica- 
tion will  be  enough  for  the  purposes  of  this  history. 

Our  hero,  on  leaviug  school,  had  bound  himself  solemnly 
to  write  all  his  doings  and  thoughts  to  the  friend  whom  he 
had  left  behind  him :  distance  and  separation  were  to  make 
no  difference  whatever  in  their  friendship.  This  compact 
had  been  made  on  one  of  their  last  evenings  at  Rugby. 
They  were  sitting  together  in  the  sixth-form  room,  Tom 
splicing  the  handle  of  a  favorite  cricket  bat,  and  Arthur 
reading  a  volume  of  Raleigh's  works.  The  doctor  had 
lately  been  alluding  to  the  "  History  of  the  World,"  and 
had  excited  the  curiosity  of  the  active-minded  amongst  his 
pupils  about  the  great  navigator,  statesman,  soldier,  author, 
and  fine  gentleman.  So  Raleigh's  works  were  seized  on 
by  various  voracious  young  readers,  and  carried  out  of  the 
school  library ;  and  Arthur  was  now  deep  in  a  volume  of 
the  "Miscellanies,"  curled  up  on  a  corner  of  the  sofa. 
Presently,  Tom  heard  something  between  a  groan  and  a 
protest,  and,  looking  up,  demanded  explanations  ;  in  answer 
to  which,  Arthur,  in  a  voice  half  furious  and  half  fearful, 
read  out :  — 


8  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

u  And  be  sure  of  this,  thou  shalt  never  find  a  friend  in 
thy  young  years  whose  conditions  and  qualities  will  please 
thee  after  thou  comest  to  more  discretion  and  judgment ; 
and  then  all  thou  givest  is  lost,  and  all  wherein  thou  shalt 
trust  such  a  one  will  be  discovered." 
4i  You  don't  mean  that's  Raleigh's  ?  " 
"  Yes  —  here  it  is,  in  his  first  letter  to  his  son." 
"  What  a  cold-blooded  old  Philistine,"  said  Tom. 
"  But  it  can't  be  true,  do  you  think  ?  "  said  Arthur. 
And,  in  short,  after  some  personal  reflections  on  Sir 
Walter,  they  then  and  there  resolved  that,  so  far  as  they 
were  concerned,  it  was  not,  could  not,  and  should  not  be 
true ;  that  they  would  remain  faithful,  the  same  to  each 
other,  and  the  greatest  friends  in  the  world,  through  I 
know  not  what  separations,  trials,  and  catastrophes.  And 
for  the  better  insuring  this  result,  a  correspondence,  reg- 
ular as  the  recurring  months,  was  to  be  maintained*  It 
had  already  lasted  through  the  long  vacation  and  up  to 
Christmas  without  sensibly  dragging,  though  Tom's  letters 
had  been  something  of  the  shortest  in  November,  when  he 
had  had  lots  of  shooting,  and  two  days  a  week  with  the 
hounds.  Now,  however,  having  fairly  got  to  Oxford,  he 
determined  to  make  up  for  all  short-comings.  His  first 
letter  from  college,  taken  in  connection  with  the  previous 
sketch  of  the  place,  will  probably  accomplish  the  work  of 
introduction  better  than  any  detailed  account  by  a  third 
party ;  and  it  is  therefore  given  here  verbatim  :  — 

"  St.  Ambrose,  Oxford,  February,  184-v 
"  My  Dear  Geordie, — 

"  According  to  promise,  I  write  to  tell  you  how  I  get  on 
up  here,  and  what  sort  of  a  place  Oxford  is.  Of  course, 
I  don't  know  much  about  it  yet,  having  been  only  up  some 
two  weeks;  but  you  shall  have  my  first  impressions. 


TOM   BKOWN   AT    OXFORD.  9 

"  "Well,  first  and  foremost,  it's  an  awfully  idle  place ;  at 
any  rate,  for  us  freshmen.  Fancy  now.  I  am  in  twelve 
lectures  a  week  of  an  hour  each  —  Greek  Testament, 
first  book  of  Herodotus,  second  JEneid,  and  first  book  of 
Euclid !  There's  a  treat !  Two  hours  a  day ;  all  over 
by  twelve,  or  one  at  latest ;  and  no  extra  work  at  all,  in 
the  shape  of  copies  of  verses,  themes,  or  other  exercises. 

"  I  think  sometimes  I'm  back  in  the  lower  fifth ;  for  we 
don't  get  through  more  than  we  used  to  do  there ;  and  if 
you  were  to  hear  the  men  construe,  it  would  make  your 
hair  stand  on  end.  Where  on  earth  can  they  have  come 
from  ?  unless  they  blunder  on  purpose,  as  I  often  think. 
Of  course,  I  never  look  at  a  lecture  before  I  go  in  ;  I  know 
it  all  nearly  by  heart ;  so  it  would  be  sheer  waste  of  time. 
I  hope  I  shall  take  to  reading  something  or  other  by 
myself;  but  you  know  I  never  was  much  of  a  hand  at 
sapping,  and,  for  the  present,  the  light  work  suits  me  well 
enough,  for  there's  lots  to  see  and  learn  about  in  this 
pfajce. 

"We  keep  very  gentlemanly  hours.  Chapel  every 
morning  at  eight,  and  evening  at  seven.  You  must  attend 
once  a  day,  and  twice  on  Sundays  —  at  least,  that's  the 
rule  of  our  college  —  and  be  in  gates  by  twelve  o'clock  at 
night.  Besides  which,  if  you're  a  decently  steady  fellow, 
you  ought  to  dine  in  hall  perhaps  four  days  a  week. 
Hall  is  at  five  o'clock.  And  now  you  have  the  sum  total. 
All  the  rest  of  your  time  you  may  just  do  what  you  like 
with. 

"  So  much  for  our  work  and  hours.  Now  for  the  place. 
Well,  it's  a  grand  old  place,  certainly ;  and  I  dare  say  if 
a  fellow  goes  straight  in  it,  and  gets  creditably  through 
his  three  years,  he  may  end  by  loving  it  as  much  as  we 
do  the  old  schoolhouse  and  quadrangle  at  Eugby.  Our 
college  is  a  fair  specimen :   a  venerable   old  front   of 


10  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

crumbling  stone,  fronting  the  street,  into  which  two  or 
three  other  colleges  look  also.  Over  the  gateway  is  a 
large  room,  where  the  college  examinations  go  on,  when 
there  are  any ;  and,  as  you  enter,  you  pass  the  porter's 
lodge,  where  resides  our  janitor,  a  bustling  little  man,  with 
a  potbelly,  whose  business  it  is  to  put  down  the  time  at 
which  the  men  come  in  at  night,  and  to  keep  all  discom- 
monsed  tradesmen,  stray  dogs,  and  bad  characters  gener- 
ally, out  of  the  college. 

"The  large  quadrangle  into  which  you  come  first,  is 
bigger  than  ours  at  Rugby,  and  a  much  more  solemn  and 
sleepy  sort  of  a  place,  with  its  little  gables  and  old  mul- 
lioned  windows.  One  side  is  occupied  by  the  hall  and 
chapel ;  the  principal's  house  takes  up  half  another  side  ; 
and  the  rest  is  divided  into  staircases,  on  each  of  which 
are  six  or  eight  sets  of  rooms,  inhabited  by  us  undergrad- 
uates, with  here  and  there  a  tutor  or  fellow  dropped  down 
amongst  us  (in  the  first-floor  rooms,  of  course),  not  exactly 
to  keep  order,  but  to  act  as  a  sort  of  ballast.  This  quad- 
rangle is  the  show  part  of  the  college,  and  is  generally 
respectable  and  quiet,  which  is  a  good  deal  more  than  can 
be  said  for  the  inner  quadrangle,  which  you  get  at  through 
a  passage  leading  out  of  the  other.  The  rooms  aint  half 
so  large  or  good  in  the  inner  quad  ;  and  here's  where  all 
we  freshmen  live,  besides  a  lot  of  the  older  undergraduates 
who  don't  care  to  change  their  rooms.  Only  one  tutor  has 
rooms  here;  and  I  should  think,  if  he's  a  reading  man,  it 
wont  be  long  before  he  clears  out ;  for  all  sorts  of  high 
jinks  go  on  on  the  grass-plot,  and  the  row  on  the  stair- 
cases is  often  as  bad,  and  not  half  so  respectable,  as  it 
used  to  be  in  the  middle  passage  in  the  last  week  of  the 
half  year. 

"  My  rooms  are  what  they  call  garrets,  right  up  in  the 
roof,  with  a  commanding  view  of  college  tiles  and  chim- 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  11 

ney  pots,  and  of  houses  at  the  back.  No  end  of  cats  ;  both 
college  Toms  and  strangers  haunt  the  neighborhood,  and  I 
am  rapidly  learning  cat-talk  from  them;  but  I'm  not  going 
to  stand  it,  —  I  don't  want  to  know  cat-talk.  The  college 
Toms  are  protected  by  the  statutes,  I  believe  ;  but  I'm 
going  *to  buy  an  air-gun  for  the  benefit  of  the  strangers. 
My  rooms  are  pleasant  enough,  at  the  top  of  the  kitchen 
staircase,  and  separated  from  all  mankind  by  a  great,  iron- 
clamped,  outer  door,  my  oak,  which  I  sport  when  I  go  out, 
or  want  to  be  quiet ;  sitting-room  eighteen  by  twelve,  bed- 
room twelve  by  eight,  and  a  little  cupboard  for  the  scout. 
"  Ah,  Geordie,  the  scout  is  an  institution  !  Fancy  me 
waited  upon  and  valeted  by  a  stout  party  in  black,  of 
quiet,  gentlemanly  manners,  like 'the  benevolent  father  in 
a  comedy.  He  takes  the  deepest  interest  in  all  my  pos- 
sessions and  proceedings,  and  is  evidently  used  to  good  so- 
ciety, to  judge  by  the  amount  of  crockery  and  glass,  wines, 
liquors,  and  grocery,  which  he  thinks  indispensable  for  my 
due  establishment.  He  has  also  been  good  enough  to  rec- 
ommend me  to  many  tradesmen  who  are  ready  to  supply 
these  articles  in  any  quantities ;  each  of  whom  has  been 
here  already  a  dozen  times,  cap  in  hand,  and  vowing  that 
it  is  quite  immaterial  when  I  pay,  —  which  is  very  kind 
of  them  ;  but,  with  the  highest  respect  for  Friend  Perkins 
(my  scout)  and  his  obliging  friends,  I  shall  make  some 
inquiries  before  '  letting  in '  with  any  of  them.  He  waits 
on  me  in  hall,  where  we  go  in  full  fig  of  cap  and  gown  at 
five,  and  get  very  good  dinners,  and  cheap  enough.  It  is 
rather  a  fine  old  room,  with  a  good,  arched,  black  oak  ceil- 
ing and  high  panelling,  hung  round  with  pictures  of  old 
swells,  bishops  and  lords  chiefly,  who  have  endowed  the 
college  in  some  way,  or  at  least  have  fed  here  in  times 
gone  by,  and  for  whom,  '  cseterisque  benefactoribus  nos- 
tris,'  we  daily  give  thanks  in  a  long  Latin  grace,  which  one 


12  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

of  the  undergraduates  (I  think  it  must  be)  goes  and  rattlea 
out  at  the  end  of  the  high  table,  and  then  comes  down 
again  from  the  dais  to  his  own  place.  No  one  feeds  at 
the  high  table  except  the  dons  and  the  gentlemen-com- 
moners, who  are  undergraduates  in  velvet  caps  and  silk 
gowns  :  why  they  wear  these  instead  -of  cloth  and  -serge, 
I  haven't  yet  made  out,  —  I  believe  it  is  because  they  pay 
double  fees ;  but  they  seem  uncommonly  wretched  up  at 
the  high  table,  and  I  should  think  would  sooner  pay  double 
to  come  to  the  other  end  of  the  hall. 

"  The  chapel  is  a  quaint  little  place,  about  the  size  of 
the  chancel  of  Lutterworth  Church.  It  just  holds  us  all 
comfortably.  The  attendance  is  regular  enough,  but  I 
don't  think  the  men  care  about  it  a  bit  in  general.  Sev- 
eral I  can  see  bring  in  Euclids,  and  other  lecture  books, 
and  the  service  is  gone  through  at  a  great  pace.  I  couldn't 
think  at  first  why  some  of  the  men  seemed  so  uncomfort- 
able and  stiff  about  the  legs  at  the  morning  service,  but  I 
find  that  they  are  the  hunting  set,  and  come  in  with  pea- 
coats  over  their  pinks,  and  trousers  over  their  leather 
breeches  and  top-boots ;  which  accounts  for  it.  There 
are  a  few  others  who  seem  very  devout,  and  bow  a  good 
deal,  and  turn  towards  the  altar  at  different  parts  of  the 
service.  These  are  of  the  Oxford  high-church  school,  I  be- 
llere ;  but  I  shall  soon  find  out  more  about  them.  On  the 
whole,  I  feel  less  at  home,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  at  present 
in  the  chapel  than  anywhere  else. 

"  I  was  very  nearly  forgetting  a  great  institution  of  the 
college,  which  is.  the  buttery-hatch,  just  opposite  the  hall- 
door.  Here  abides  the  fat  old  butler  (all  the  servants  at 
St.  Ambrose's  are  portly),  and  serves  out  limited  bread, 
butter,  and  cheese,  and  unlimited  beer,  brewed  by  himself, 
for  an  hour  in  the  morning,  at  noon,  and  again  at  supper- 
time.    Your  scout  always  fetches  you  a  pint  or  so  on  each 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  13 

occasion,  in  case  you  should  want  it,  and  if  you  dea't,  it 
falls  to  him ;  but  I  can't  say  that  my  fellow  gets  much,  for 
I  am  naturally  a  thirsty  soul,  and  cannot  often  resist  the 
malt  myself,  coming  up,  as  it  does,  fresh  and  cool,  in  one. 
of  the  silver  tankards,  of  which  we  seem  td  have  an  end- 
less suppl}r. 

"  I  spent  a  day  or  two  in  the  first  week,  before  I  got 
shaken  down  into  my  place  here,  in  going  round  and  see- 
ing the  other  colleges,  and  finding  out  what  great  men  had 
been  at  each  (one  got  a  taste  for  that  sort  of  work  from 
the  doctor,  and  I'd  nothing  else  to  do).  Well,  I  never 
was  more  interested:  fancy  ferreting  out  Wycliffe,  the 
Black  Prince,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Pym,  Hampden,  Laud, 
Ireton,  Butler,  and  Addison,  in  one  afternoon.  f  walked 
about  two  inches  taller  in  my  trencher  cap  after  it.  Per- 
haps I  may  be  going  to  make  dear  friends  with  some  fellow 
who  will  change  the  history  of  England.  Why  should- 
n't I  ?  There  must  have  been  freshmen  once  who  were 
chums  of  Wycliffe  of  Queen's,  or  Raleigh  of  Oriel.  I 
mooned  up  and  down  the  High  Street,  staring  at  all  the 
young  faces  in  caps,  and  wondering  which  of  them  would 
turn  out  great  generals  or  statesmen  or  poets.  Some  of 
them  will,  of  course,  for  there  must  be  a  dozen  at  least,  I 
should  think,  in  every  generation  of  undergraduates,  who 
will  have  a  good  deal  to  say  to  the  ruling  and  guiding  of 
the  British  nation  before  they  die. 

"  But,  after  all,  the  river  is  the  feature  of  Oxford,  to  my 
mind  ;  a  glorious  stream,  not  five  minutes'  walk  from  the 
colleges,  broad  enough  in  most  places  for  three  boats  to 
row  abreast.  I  expect  I  shall  take  to  boating  furiously ; 
I  have  been  down  the  river  three  or  four  times  already 
with  some  other  freshmen,  and  it  is  glorious  exercise ;  that 
I  can  see,  though  we  bungle  and  cut  crabs  desperately  at 
present. 


14  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  Here's  a  long  yarn  I'm  spinning  for  you  ;  and  I  dare 
say  after  all  you'll  say  it  tells  you  nothing,  and  you'd  rather 
have  twenty  lines  about  the  men,  and  what  they're  think- 
ing about,  and  the  meaning  and  inner  life  of  the  place, 
and  all  that.  Patience,  patience  !  I  don't  know  any  thing 
about  it  myself  yet,  and  have  only  had  time  to  look  at  the 
shell,  which  is  a  very  handsome  and  stately  affair ;  you 
ehall  have  the  kernel,  if  ever  I  get  at  it,  in  due  time. 

"  And  now  write  me  a  long  letter  directly,  and  tell  me 
about  the  doctor,  and  who  are  in  the  sixth,  and  how  the 
house  goes  on,  and  what  sort  of  an  eleven  there'll  be,  and 
what  you  are  all  doing  and  thinking  about.  Come  up  here 
and  try  for  a  scholarship ;  I'll  take  you  in  and  show  you 
the  lions.  Remember  me  to  all  old  friends.  Ever  yours, 
affectionately,  T.  B.w 


r4LIN0^ 
CHAPTER  H. 

A   ROW    ON    THE    RIVER. 

WiTniN  a  day  or  two  of  the  penning  of  this  celebrated 
epistle,  which  created  quite  a  sensation  in  the  sixth-form 
room  as  it  went  the  round  after  tea,  Tom  realized  one  of 
the  objects  of  his  young  Oxford  ambition,  and  succeeded 
in  embarking  on  the  river  in  a  skiff  by  himself,  with  such 
results  as  are  now  to  be  described.  He  had  already  been 
down  several  times  in  pair-oar  and  four-oar  boats,  with  an 
old  oar  to  pull  stroke  and  another  to  steer  and  coach  the 
young  idea,  but  he  was  not  satisfied  with  these  essays. 
He  could  not  believe  that  he  was  such  a  bad  oar  as  the 
old  hands  made  hirnOut  to  be,  and  thought  that  it  must  be 
the  fault  of  the  other  freshmen  who  were  learning  with 
him  that  the  boat  made  so  little  way  and  rolled  so  much. 
He  had  been  such  a  proficient  in  all  the  Rugby  games, 
that  he  couldn't  realize  the  fact  of  his  unreadiness  in  a 
boat.  Pulling  looked  a  simple  thing  enough  —  much 
easier  than  tennis ;  and  he  had  made  a  capital  start  at  the 
latter  game,  and  been  highly  complimented  by  the  marker 
after  his  first  hour  in  the  little  court.  He  forgot  that 
cricket  and  fives  are  capital  training  for  tennis,  but  that 
rowing  is  a  speciality,  of  the  rudiments  of  which  he  was 
wholly  ignorant.  And  so,  in  full  confidence  that,  if  he 
could  only  have  a  turn  or  two  alone,  he  should  not  only 
satisfy  himself,  but  everybody  else,  that  he  was  a  heaven- 
born  oar,  he  refused  all  offers  of  companionship,  and 
6tarted  on  the  afternoon  of  a  fine  February  day  down  to 


16  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

the  boats  for  his  trial  trip.  He  had  watched  his  regular 
companions  well  out  of  college,  and  gave  them  enough 
start  to  make  sure  that  they  would  be  off  before  he  him- 
self could  arrive  at  the  St.  Ambrose's  dressing-room  at 
Hall's,  and  chuckled,  as  he  came  within  sight  of  the  river, 
to  see  the  freshmen's  boat  in  which  he  generally  per- 
formed go  plunging  away  past  the  university  barge,  keep- 
ing three  different  times  with  four  oars,  and  otherwise 
demeaning  itself  so  as  to  become  an  object  of  mirthful 
admiration  to  all  beholders. 

Tom  was  punted  across  to  Hall's  in  a  state  of  great 
content,  which  increased  when  in  answer  to  his  casual  in- 
quiry, the  managing  man  informed  him  that  not  a  man  of 
his  college  was  about  the  place.  So  he  ordered  a  skiff 
with  as  much  dignity  and  coolness  as  he  could  command, 
and  hastened  up-stairs  to  dress.  He  appeared  again,  car- 
rying his  boating  coat  and  cap.  They  were  quite  new,  so 
he  would  not  wear  them ;  nothing  about  him  should  be- 
tray the  freshman  on  this  day  if  he  could  help  it. 

"  Is  my  skiff  ready  ?  " 

"  All  right,  sir ;  this  way,  sir,"  said  the  manager,  con- 
ducting him  to  a  good,  safe-looking  craft.  "Any  gentleman 
going  to  steer,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  superciliously ;  "  you  may  take  out 
the  rudder." 

"  Going  quite  alone,  sir  ?  Better  take  one  of  our  boys 
—  find  you  a  very  light  one.  Here,  Bill !  " —  and  he 
turned  to  summon  a  juvenile  waterman  to  take  charge 
)f  our  hero. 

"  Take  out  the  rudder  ;  do  you  hear  ? "  interrupted 
Tom.     "  I  wont  have  a  steerer."    ■ 

"  Well,  sir,  as  you  please,"  said  the  manager,  proceed- 
ing to  remove  the  degrading    appendage.     "  The   river'? 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  1? 

ratner  high,  please  to  remember,  sir.  You  must  mind 
the  mill-stream  at  Iffley  Lock.     I  suppose  you  can  swim  ?" 

M  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Tom,  settling  himself  on  his 
cushion.     "  Now,  shove  her  off." 

The  next  moment  he  was  well  out  in  the  stream,  and 
left  to  his  own  resources.  He  got  his  sculls  out  success- 
fully enough,  and,  though  feeling  by  no  means  easy  on 
his  seat,  proceeded  to  pull  very  deliberately  past  the 
barges,  stopping  his  sculls  in  the  air  to  feather  accurately, 
in  the  hopes  of  deceiving  spectators  into  the  belief  that 
he  (was  an  old  hand  just  going  out  for  a  gentle  paddle. 
The  manager  wratched  him  for  a  minute,  and  turned  to 
his  work  with  an  aspiration  that  he  might  not  come  to 
grief. 

But  no  thought  of  grief  was  on  Tom's  mind  as  he 
dropped  gently  down,  impatient  for  the  time  when  he 
should  pass  the  mouth  of  the  Cherwell,  and  so,  having  no 
longer  critical  eyes  to  fear,  might  put  out  his  whole  strength, 
and  give  himself  at  least,  if  not  the  world,  assurance  of  a 
waterman. 

The  day  was  a  very  fine  one,  a  bright  sun  shining, 
and  a  nice  fresh  breeze  blowing  across  the  stream,  but 
not  enough  to  ruffle  the  water  seriously.  Some  heavy 
storms  up  Gloucestershire  way  had  cleared  the  air,  and 
swollen  the  stream  at  the  same  time ;  in  fact,  the  river 
was  as  full  as  it  could  be  without  overflowing  its  banks  — 
a  state  in  which,  of  all  others,  it  is  the  least  safe  for  boat- 
ing experiments.  Fortunately,  in  those  days  there  were 
no  outriggers.  Even  the  racing  skiffs  were  comparatively 
safe  craft,  and  would  be  now  characterized  as  tabs ;  while 
the  real  tubs  (in  one  of  the  safest  of  which  the  prudent 
manager  had  embarked  our  hero)  were  of  such  build  that 
it  required  considerable  ingenuity  actually  to  upset  them. 

If  any  ordinary  amount  of  bungling  could  have  done 
2* 


18  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

it,  Tom's  voyage  would  have  terminated  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  Cherwell.  While  he  had  been  sitting  quiet 
and  merely  paddling,  and  almost  letting  the  stream  carry 
him  down,  the  boat  had  trimmed  well  enough ;  but  now, 
taking  a  long  breath,  he  leaned  forward,  and  dug  his 
sculls  into  the  water,  pulling  them  through  with  all  his 
strength.  The  consequence  of  this  feat  Avas  that  the 
handles  of  the  sculls  came  into  violent  collision  in  the 
middle  of  the  boat,  the  knuckles  of  his  right  hand  were 
barked,  his  left  scull  unshipped,  and  the  head  of  his  skiff 
almost  blown  round  by  the  wind  before  he  could  restore 
order  on  board. 

"  Never  mind ;  try  again,"  thought  he,  after  the  sensa- 
tion of  disgust  had  passed  off,  and  a  glance  at  the  shore 
showed  him  that  there  were  no  witnesses.  "  Of  course,  I 
forgot,  one  hand  must  go  over  the  other.  It  might  have 
happened  to  any  one.  Let  me  see.  "Which  hand  shall  I 
keep  uppermost?  The  left ;  that's  the  weakest."  And  away 
he  went  again,  keeping  his  newly  acquired  fact  painfully 
in  mind,  and  so  avoiding  further  collision  amidships  for 
four  or  five  strokes.  But,  as,  in  other-  sciences,  the  giving 
of  undue  prominence  to  one  fact  brings  others  inexorably 
on  the  head  of  the  student  to  avenge  his  neglect  of  them, 
so  it  happened  with  Tom  in  his  practical  study  of  the 
science  of  rowing,  that  by  thinking  of  the  hands  he  forgot 
his  seat,  and  the  necessity  of  trimming  properly.  Where- 
upon  the  old  tub  began  to  rock  fearfully,  and  the  next 
moment  he  missed  the  water  altogether  with  his  right 
scull,  and  subsided  backwards,  not  without  struggles,  into 
the  bottom  of  the  boat ;  while  the  half-stroke  which  he  had 
pulled  with  his  left  hand  sent  her  head  well  into  the  bank. 

Tom  picked  himself  up,  and  settled  himself  on  his 
bench  again,  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man ;  as  the  truth 
began  to  dawn  upon  him  that  pulling,  especially  sculling, 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  19 

does  not,  like  reading  and  writing,  come  by  nature. 
However,  he  addressed  himself  manfully  to  his  task ; 
savage  indeed,  and  longing  to  drive  a  hole  in  the  bottom 
of  the  old  tub,  but  as  resolved  as  ever  to  get  to  Sandford 
and  back  before  hall  time,  or  perish  in  the  attempt.    . 

He  shoved  himself  off  the  bank,  and,  warned  by  hi3 
last  mishap,  got  out  into  mid  stream,  and  there,  moderating 
his  ardor,  and  contenting  himself  with  a  slow  and  steady 
stroke,  was  progressing  satisfactorily,  and  beginning  to 
recover  his  temper,  when  a  loud  shout  startled  him ;  and, 
looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  imminent  risk  of  an  upset, 
he  beheld  the  fast  sailer  the  Dart,  close  hauled  on  a 
wind,  and  almost  aboard  of  him.  Utterly  ignorant  of 
what  was  the  right  thing  to  do,  he  held  on  his  course,  and 
passed  close  under  the  bows  of  the  miniature  cutter,  the 
steersman  having  jammed  his  helm  hard  down,  shaking 
her  in  the  wind,  to  prevent  running  over  the  skiff,  and 
solacing  himself  with  pouring  maledictions  on  Tom  and 
his  craft,  in  which  the  man  who  had  hoid  of  the  sheets 
and  the  third,  who  was  lounging  in  the  bows,  heartily 
joined.  Tom  was  out  of  ear-shot  before  he  had  collected 
vituperation  enough  to  hurl  back  at  them,  and  was,  more- 
over, already  in  the  difficult  navigation  of  the  Gut,  where, 
notwithstanding  all  his  efforts,  he  again  ran  aground  ;  but 
with  this  exception  he  arrived  without  other  mishap  at 
Iffley,  where  he  lay  on  his  sculls  with  much  satisfaction, 
and  shouted,  "  Lock  — lock ! " 

The  lock-keeper  appeared  to  the  summons,  but  instead 
of  opening  the  gates  seized  a  long  boat-hook  and  rushed 
towards  our  hero,  calling  on  him  to  mind  the  mill-stream, 
and  pull  his  right-hand  scull  ;  notwithstanding  which 
warning,  Tom  was  within  an  ace  of  drifting  past  the 
entrance  to  the  lock,  in  which  case  assuredly  his  boat,  if 
Dot  he,  had  never  returned  whole.     However,  the  lock- 


20'  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

keeper  managed  to  catch  the  stern  of  his  skiff  with  the 
boat-hook,  and  drag  him  back  into  the  proper  channel,  and 
then  opened  the  lock-gates  for  him.  Tom  congratulated 
himself  as  he  entered  the  lock  that  there  were  no  other 
boats  going  through  with  him ;  but  his  evil  star  was  in 
the  ascendant,  and  all  things,  animate  and  inanimate, 
seemed  to  be  leagued  together  to 'humiliate  him.  As  the 
water  began  to  fall  rapidly,  he  lost  his  hold  of  the  chain, 
and  the  tub  instantly  drifted  across  the  lock,  and  was  in 
imminent  danger  of  sticking  and  breaking  her  back,  when 
the  lock-keeper  again  came  to  the  rescue  with  his  boat- 
hook  ;  and,  guessing  the  state  of  the  case,  did  not  quit 
him  until  he  had  safely  shoved  him  and  his  boat  well  out 
into  the  pool  below,  with  an  exhortation  to  mind  and  go 
outside  of  the  barge  which  was  coming  up. 

Tom  started  on  the  latter  half  of  his  outward  voyage 
with  the  sort  of  look  which  Cato  must  have  worn  when  he 
elected  the  losing  side,  and  all  the  gods  went  over  to  the 
winning  one.  But  his  previous  struggles  had  not  been 
thrown  away,  and  he  managed  to  keep  the  right  side  of 
the  barge,  turn  the  corner  without  going  aground,  and  zig- 
zag down  Kennington  reach,  slowly  indeed,  and  with  much 
labor,  but  at  any  rate  safely.  Rejoicing  in  this  feat,  he 
stopped  at  the  island,  and  recreated  himself  with  a  glass 
of  beer,  looking  now  hopefully  towards  Sandford,  which 
lay  within  'easy  distance,  now  upwards  again  along  the 
reach  which  he  had  just  overcome,  and  solacing  himself 
with  the  remembrance  of  a  dictum,  which  he  had  heard 
from  a  great  authority,  that  it  was  always  easier  to  steer 
up  stream  than  down,  from  which  he  argued  that  the 
worst  part  of  his  trial  trip  was  now  over. 

Presently  he  saw  a  skiff  turn  the  corner  at  the  top  of 
Kennington  reach,  and,  resolving  in  his  mind  to  get  to 
Sandford  before  the  new-comer,  paid  for  his  beer,  and  be* 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  21 

took  himself  again  to  his  tub.  He  got  pretty  well  tff,  and, 
the  island  shutting  out  his  unconscious  rival  from  his  view, 
worked  away  at  first  under  the  pleasing  delusion  that  he 
was  holding  his  own.  But  he  was  soon  undeceived,  for  in 
monstrously  short  time  the  pursuing  skiff  showed  round 
the  corner,  and  bore  down  on  him.  He  never  relaxed 
his  efforts,  but  could  not  help  watching  the  enemy  as  he 
came  up~with  him  hand  over  hand,  and  envying  the  per- 
fect ease  with  which  he  seemed. to  be  pulling  his  long, 
steady  stroke,  and  the  precision  with  which  he  steered, 
scarcely  ever  casting  a  look  over  his  shoulder.  He  was 
hugging  the  Berkshire  side  himself,  as  the  other  skiff 
passed  him,  and  thought  he  heard  the  sculler  say  some- 
thing about  keeping  out,  and  minding  the  small  lasher ; 
but  the  noise  of  waters  and  his  own  desperate  efforts  pre- 
vented his  heeding,  or,  indeed,  hearing  the  warning  plainly. 
In  another  minute,  however,  he  heard  plainly  enough  most 
energetic  shouts  behind  him ;  and,  turning  his  head  over 
his  right  shoulder,  saw1  the  man  who  had  just  passed  him 
backing  his  skiff  rapidly  up  stream  towards  him.  The 
next  moment  he  felt  the  bows  of  his  boat  turn  suddenly 
to  the  left ;  the  old  tub  grounded  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
turning  over  on  her  side,  shot  him  out  on  to  the  planking 
of  the  steep  descent  into  tfie  small  lasher.  He  grasped  at 
the  boards,  but  they  were  too  slippery  to  hold,  and  the 
rush  of  water  was  too  strong  for  him,  and,  rolling  him 
over  and  over,  like  a  piece  of  drift-wood,  plunged  him 
into  the  pond  below. 

After  the  first  moment  of  astonishment  and  fright  was 
over,  Tom  left  himself*  to  the  stream,  holding  his  breath 
hard,  and  paddling  gently  With  his  hands,  feeling  sure  that 
if  he  could  only  hold  on,  he  should  come  to  the  surface 
sooner  or  later;  which  accordingly  happened  after  a 
somewhat  lengthy  submersion. 


22  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

His  first  impulse  on  rising  to  the  surface,  after  catching 
his  breath,  was  to  strike  out  for  the  shore,  but,  in  the  act 
of  doing  so,  he  caught  sight  of  the  other  skiff  coming  stern 
foremost  down  the  descent  after  him,  and  he  trod  the 
water  and  drew  in  his  breath  to  watch.  Down  she  came, 
as  straight  as  an  arrow,  into  the  tumult  below  ;  the  sculler 
sitting  upright,  and  holding  his  sculls  steadily  in  the  water. 
For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  be  going  under,  but  righted 
herself,  and  glided  swiftly  into  the  still  water ;  and  then 
the  sculler  cast  a  hasty  and  anxious  glance  round,  till  his 
eyes  rested  on  our  hero's  half-drowned  head. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are !  "  he  said,  looking  much  relieved ; 
"  all  right,  I  hope.     Not  hurt,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  thankee ;  all  right,  I  believe,"  answered  Tom. 
"What  shall  I  do?" 

"  Swim  ashore ;  I'll  look  after  your  boat."  So  Tom 
took  the  advice,  swam  ashore,  and  there  stood  dripping 
and  watching  the  other  as  he  righted  the  old  tub,  which 
was  floating  quietly  bottom  upwards,  little  the  worse  for 
the  mishap,  and  no  doubt,  if  boats  can  wish,  earnestly 
desiring  in  her  wooden  mind  to  be  allowed  to  go  quietly 
to  pieces  then  and  there,  sooner  than  be  rescued  to  bo 
again  entrusted  to  the  guidance  of  freshmen. 

The  tub  having  been  brought  to  the  bank,  the  stranger 
started  again,  and  collected  the  sculls  and  bottom  boards, 
which  were  floating  about  here  and  there  in  the  pool,  and 
also  succeeded  in  making  salvage  of  Tom's  coat,  the  pock- 
ets of  which  held  his  watch,  purse,  and  cigar  case.  These 
he  brought  to  the  bank,  and  delivering  them  over,  inquired 
whether  there  was  any  thing  else  to  look  after. 

"Thank  you,  no  ;  nothing  but  my  cap.  Never  mind  it. 
It's  luck  enough  not  to  have  lost  the  coat,"  said  Tom,  hold- 
ing up  the  dripping  garment  to  let  the  water  run  out  of 
the  arms  and  pocket-holes,  and  then  wringing  it  as  well 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  23 

as  he  could.  "  At  any  rate,"  thought  he,  "  I  needn't  be 
afraid  of  its  looking  too  new  any  more." 

The  stranger  put  off  again,  and  made  one  more  round, 
searching  for  the  cap  and  any  thing  else  which  he  might 
have  overlooked,  but  without  success.  While  he  was  doing 
so,  Tom  had  time  to  look  him  well  over,  and  see  what  sort 
of  man  had  come  to  his  rescue.  He  hardly  knew  at  the 
time  the  full  extent  of  his  obligation  —  at  least  if  this  sort 
of  obligation  is  to  be  reckoned  not  so  much  by  the  service 
actually  rendered,  as  by  the  risk  encountered  to  be  able 
to  render  it.  There  were  probably  not  three  men  in  the 
university  who  would  have  dared  to  shoot  the  lasher  in  a 
skiff  in  its  then  state,  for  it  was  in  those  times  a  really 
dangerous  place;  and  Tom  himself  had  had  an  extraor- 
dinary escape,  for,  as  Miller,  the  St.  Ambrose  coxswain, 
remarked  on  hearing  the  story,  "  No  one  who  wasn't  born 
to  be  hung  could  have  rolled  down  it  without  knocking 
his  head  against  something  hard,  and  going  down  like  lead 
when  he  got  to  the  bottom." 

He  was  very  well  satisfied  with  his  inspection.  The 
other  man  was  evidently  a  year  or  two  older  than  himself, 
his  figure  was  more  set,  and  he  had  stronger  whiskers  than 
are  generally  grown  at  twenty.  He  was  somewhere  about 
five  feet  ten  in  height,  very  deep-chested,  and  with  long, 
powerful  arms  and  hands.  There  was  no  denying,  how- 
ever, that  at  the  first  glance  he  was  an  ugly  man  ;  he  was 
marked  with  small-pox,  had  large  features,  high  cheek- 
bones, deeply  set  eyes,  and  a  very  long  chin ;  and  had 
got  the  trick  which  many  underhung  men  have  of  com- 
pressing the  upper  lip.  Nevertheless,  there  was  that  in 
his  face  which  hit  Tom's  fancy,  and  made  him  anxious  to 
know  the  other  better.  'He' had  an  instinct  that  he  should 
get  good  out  of  him.  So  he  was  very  glad  when  the 
6earch  was  ended,  and  the  stranger  came  to  the  bank. 


24  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

shipped  his  sculls,  and  jumped  out  with  the  painter  of  hia 
skiff  in  his  hand,  which  he  proceeded  to  fasten  to  an  old 
stump,  while  he  remarked,  — 

"  I'm  afraid  the  cap's  lost." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  the  least.  Thank  you  for  coming  to 
help  me ;  it  was  very  kind  indeed,  and  more  than  I  ex- 
pected. Don't  they  say  that  one  Oxford  man  will  never 
save  another  from  drowning,  unless  they  have  been  intro- 
duced ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  other;  "are you  sure  you're 
not  hurt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite,"  said  Tom,  foiled  in  what  he  considered  an 
artful  plan  to  get  the  stranger  to  introduce  himself. 

"  Then  we're  very  well  out  of  it,"  said  the  other,  look- 
ing at  the  steep  descent  into  the  lasher,  and  the  rolling, 
tumbling  rush  of  the  water  below. 

"  Indeed  we  are,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  how  in  the  world 
did  you  manage  not  to  upset  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  myself —  I  have  shipped  a  good  deal 
of  water,  you  see.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  jumped  out 
on  the  bank  and  come  across  to  you,  leaving  my  skiff  in 
the  river ;  for  if  I  had  upset  I  couldn't  have  helped  you 
much.  However,  I  followed  my  instinct,  which  was  to 
come  the  quickest  way.  I  thought,  too,  that  if  I  could 
manage  to  get  down  in  the  boat  I  should  be  of  more  use. 
I'm  very  glad  I  did  it,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause  ; 
"  I'm  really  proud  of  having  come  down  that  place," 

"  So  aint  I,"  said  Tom  with  a  laugh,  in  which  the  other 
joined. 

"  But  now  you're  getting  chilled,"  and  he  turned  from 
the  lasher  and  looked  at  Tom's  chattering  jaws. 

■"  Oh,  it's  nothing  !     I'm  used  to  being  wet." 

"  But  you  may  just  as  well  be  comfortable  if  you  can. 
Here's  this  rough  jersey  which  I  use  instead  of  a  coat ;  pull 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  25 

off  that  wet  cotton  affair  and  put  it  on,  and  tlien  we'll  get 
to  work,  for  we  have  plenty  to  do." 

After  a  little  persuasion  Tom  did  as  he  was  bid,  and 
got  into  the  great  woollen  garment,  which  was  very  com- 
forting ;  and  then  the  two  set  about  getting  their  skiffs 
back  into  the  main  stream.  This  was  comparatively  easy 
as  to  the  lighter  skiff,  which  was  soon  baled  out  and  hauled 
by  main  force  on  to  the  bank,  carried  across  and  launched 
again.  The  tub  gave  them  much  more  trouble,  for  she 
was  quite  full  of  water  and  very  heavy  ;•  but  after  twenty 
minutes  or  so  of  hard  work,  during  which  the  mutual  re- 
spect of  the  laborers  for  the  strength  and  willingness  of 
each  other  was  much  increased,  she  also  lay  in  the  main 
stream,  leaking  considerably,  but  otherwise  not  much  the 
worse  for  her  adventure. 

"  Now  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  said  the  stranger. 
"  I  don't  think  you  can  pull  home  in  her.  One  doesn't 
know  how  much  she  may  be  damaged.  She  may  sink  in 
the  lock,  or  play  any  prank." 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  with  her ? " 

"  Oh,  you  can  leave  her  at  Sandford  and  walk  up,  and 
send  one  of  Hall's  boys  for  her,  or  if  you  like  I  will  tow 
her  up  behind  my  skiff." 

"  Wont  your  skiff  carry  two  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  if  you  like  to  come  I'll  take  you,  but  you  must 
sit  very  quiet." 

"  Can't  we  go  down  to  Sandford  first  and  have  a  glass 
of  ale  ?  What  time  is  it  ?  —  the  water  has  stopped  my 
watch." 

"  A  quarter  past  three.  I  have  about  twenty  minutes 
to  spare." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  will  you  let  me 
pull  your  skiff  down  to  Sandford  ?     I  resolved  to  pull  to 
Sandford  to-day,  and  don't  like  to  give  it  up." 
3 


26  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  By  all  means,  if.  you  like,"  said  the  other  rc  ith  a 
smile ;  "  jump  in,  and  I'll  walk  along  the  bank." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  hurrying  into  the  skiff,  in 
which  he  completed  the  remaining  quarter  of  a  mile, 
while  the  owner  walked  by  the  side,  watching  him. 

They  met  on  the  bank  at  the  little  inn  by  Sandford 
lock,  and  had  a  glass  of  ale,  over  which  Tom  confessed 
that  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  navigated  a  skiff  by 
himself,  and  gave  a  detailed  account  of  his  adventures,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  his  companion.  And  by  the  time 
they  rose  to  go,  it  was  settled,  at  Tom's  earnest  request, 
that  he  should  pull  the  sound  skiff  up,  while  his  companion 
sat  in  the  stern  and  coached  him.  The  other  consented 
verj'  kindly,  merely  stipulating  that  he  himself  should  take 
the  sculls,  if  it  should  prove  that  Tom  could  not  pull  them 
up  in  time  for  hall  dinner.  So  they  started,  and  took  the 
tub  in  tow  when  they  came  up  to  it.  Tom  got  on  fa- 
mously under  his  new  tutor,  who  taught  him  to  get  for- 
ward, and  open  his  knees  properly,  and  throw  his  weight 
on  to  the  sculls  at  the  beginning  of  the  stroke.  He  man- 
aged even  to  get  into  Iffley  lock  on  the  way  up  without 
fouling  the  gates,  and  was  then  and  there  complimented 
on  his  progress.  Whereupon  as  they  sat  there,  while  the 
loci:  filled,  Tom  poured  out  his  thanks  to  his  tutor  for 
iiis  instruction,  which  had  been  given  so  judiciously  that, 
wh.Ue  he  was  conscious  of  improving  at  every  stroke,  he 
did  not  feel  that  the  other  was  asserting  any  superiority 
over  him  ;  and  so,  though  he  was  really  much  more  hum- 
Lie  than  at  the  most  disastrous  period  of  his  downward 
voyage,  instead  of  being  brimful,  of  wrath  and  indigna- 
tion, was  getting  into  a  better  temper  every  minute. 

It  is  a  great  pity  that  some  of  our  instructors  in  more 
important  matters  than  sculling  will  not  take  a  leaf  out 
of  the  same  book.     Of  course,  it  is  more  satisfactory  to 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.     .  27 

one's  own  self-love,  to  make  every  one  who  comes  to  one 
to  learn,  feel  that  he  is  a  fool,  and  we  wise  men :  but,  if 
our  object  is  to  teach  well  and  usefully  what  we  know 
ourselves,  there  cannot  be  a  worse  method.  I  suppose 
that  no  man  is  likely  to  adopt  it,  so  long  as  he  is  conscious 
that  he  has  any  thing  himself  to  learn  from  his  pupils ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  has  arrived  at  the  conviction  that  they 
can  teach  him  nothing  —  that  it  is  henceforth  to  be  all 
give  and  no  take  —  the  sooner  he  throws  up  his  office  of 
teacher,  the  better  it  will  be  for  himself,  his  pupils,  and  his 
country,  whose  sons  he  is  misguiding. 

On  their  way  up,  so  intent  were  they  on  their  own 
work,  that  it  was  not  until  shouts  of  "  Halloo,  Brown ! 
how  did  you  get  there  ?  Why,  you  said  you  were  not 
going  down  to-day,"  greeted  them  just  above  the  Gut, 
that  they  were  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  freshmen's 
four-oar  of  St.  Ambrose  College,  which  had  with  some 
trouble  succeeded  in  overtaking  them. 

" I  said  I  wasn't  going  down  with  you"  shouted  Tom. 
grinding  away  harder  than  ever,  that  they  might  witness 
and  wonder  at  his  prowess. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say !  Whose  skiff  are  you  towing  up  ? 
I  believe  you've  been  upset." 

Tom  made  no  reply,  and  the  four-oar  floundered  on 
ahead. 

"Are  you  at  St.  Ambrose's?"  asked  his  sitter,  after  a 
minute. 

"  Yes ;  that's  my  treadmill,  that  four-oar.  I've  been 
down  in  it  almost  every  day  since  I  came  up,  and  very- 
poor  fun  it  is.  So  I  thought  to-day  I  would  go  on  my 
own  hook,  and  see  if  I  couldn't  make  a  better  hand  of  it. 
And  I  have,  too,  I  know,  thanks  to  you." 

The  other  made  no  remark,  but  a  little  shade  came 
over  his  face.     He  had  had  no  chance  of  making  out 


28  TOM  BROWN  AT   OXFORD. 

Tom's  college,  as  the  new  cap  which  would  have  betrayed 
him  had  disappeared  in  the  lasher.  He  himself  wore  a 
glazed  straw  hat,  which  was  of  no  college ;  so  that  up  to 
this  time  neither  of  them  had  known  to  what  college  the 
other  belonged. 

When  they  landed  at  Hall's,  Tom  was  at  once  involved 
in  a  wrangle  with  the  manager  as  to  the  amount  of  dam- 
age done  to  the  tub ;  which  the  latter  refused  to  assess 
before  he  knew  what  had  happened  to  it ;  while  our  hero 
vigorously  and  with  reason  maintained,  that  if  he  knew 
his  business  it  could  not  matter  what  had  happened  to  the 
boat.  There  she  was,  and  he  must  say  whether  she  was 
better  or  worse,  or  how  much  worse  than  when  she 
started.  In  the  middle  of  which  dialogue  his  new  ac- 
quaintance, touching  his  arm,  said,  "  You  can  leave  my 
jersey  with  your  own  things ;  I  shall  get  it  to-morrow," 
and  then  disappeared. 

Tom,  when  he  had  come  to  terms  with  his  adversary,  ran 
up-stairs,  expecting  to  find  the  other,  and  meaning  to  tell 
his  name,  and  find  out  who  it  was  that  had  played  the  good 
Samaritan  by  him.  He  was  much  annoyed  when  he  found 
the  coast  clear,  and  dressed  in  a  grumbling  humor.  "  I 
wonder  why  he  should  have  gone  off  so  quick.  He  might 
just  as  well  have  stayed  and  walked  up  with  me,"  thought 
he.  "  Let  me' see,  though;  didn't  he  say  I  was  to  leave 
his  jersey  in  our  room,  with  my  own  things  ?  Why,  per- 
haps he  is  a  St.  Ambrose  man  himself.  But  then  he 
would  have  told  me  so,  surely.  I  don't  remember  to  have 
seen  his  face  in  chapel  or  hall ;  but  then  there  are  such  a 
lot  of  new  faces,  and  he  may  not  sit  near  me.  However, 
I  mean  to  find  him  out  before  long,  whoever  he  may  be." 
With  which  resolve  Tom  crossed  in  the  punt  into  Christ's 
Church  meadow,  and  strolled  college- wards,  feeling  that 
he   had  had  a  good  hard  afternoon's  exercise,  and  was 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  29 

much  the  better  for  it.  He  might  have  satisfied  his  curi- 
osity at  once  by  simply  asking  the  manager  who  it  was 
that  had  arrived  with  him ;  and  this  occurred  to  him 
before  he  got  home,  whereat  he  felt  satisfied ;  but  would 
not  go  back  then,  as  it  was  so  near  hall  time.  He  would 
be  sure  to  remember  it  the  first  thing  to-morrow. 

As  it  happened,  however,  he  had  not  so  long  to  wait  for 
the  information  which  he  needed  ;  for  scarcely  had  he  sat 
down  in  hall  and  ordered  his  dinner,  when  he  caught 
sight  of  his  boating  acquaintance,  who  walked  in  habited 
in  a  gown  which  Tom  took  for  a  scholar's.  He  took  his 
seat  at  a  little  table  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  near  the 
bachelors'  table,  but  quite  away  from  the  rest  of  the  under- 
graduates, at  which  sat  four  or  five  other  men  in  similar 
gowns.  He  either  did  not  or  would  not  notice  the  looks 
of  recognition  which  Tom  kept  firing  at  him  until  he  had 
taken  his  seat. 

"  Who  is  that  man  that  has  just  come  in,  do  you  know  ?  " 
said  Tom  to  his  next  neighbor,  a  second-term  man. 

"  Which  ?  "  said  the  other,  looking  up. 

"  That  one  over  at  the  little  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
hall,  with  the  dark  whiskers.  There,  he  has  just  turned 
rather  from  us,  and  put  his  arm  on  the  table." 

"  Oh,  his  name  is  Hardy."  #  . 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  don't  think  anybody  does.  They  say  he  is  a 
clever  fellow,  but  a  very  queer  one." 

"  Why  does  he  sit  at  that  table  ?  " 

"  He  is  one  of  our  servitors,"  said  the  other ;  "  they 
all  sit  there  together." 

"  Oh,"  said  Tom,  not  much  the  wiser  for  the  informa- 
tion, but  resolved  to  waylay  Hardy  as  soon  as  hall  was 
over,  and  highly  delighted  to  find  that  they  were  after  all 
3*' 


30  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

of  the  same  college ;  for  he  had  already  begun  to  find  out, 
that  however  friendly  you  may  be  with  out-college  men, 
you  must  live  chiefly  with  those  of  your  own.  But  now 
his  scout  brought  his  dinner,  and  he  fell  to  with  marvel- 
lous appetite  on  his  ample  commons. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A    BREAKFAST   AT    DRYSDALE's. 

No  man  in  St.  Ambrose  College  gave  such  breakfasts 
as  Drysdale.  I  don't  mean  the  great  heavy  spreads  for 
thirty  or  forty,  which  came  once  or  twice  a  term,  when 
every  thing  was  supplied  out  of  the  college  kitchen,  and 
you  had  to  ask  leave  of  the  dean  before  you  could  have  it 
at  all.  In  those  ponderous  feasts  the  most  humdrum  of 
undergraduate  kind  might  rival  the  most  artistic,  if  he 
could  only  pay  his  battel-bill,  or  get  credit  with  the  cook. 
But  the  daily  morning  meal,  when  even  gentlemen-com- 
moners were  limited  to  two  hot  dishes  out  of  the  kitchen, 
this  was  Drysdale's  forte.  Ordinary  men  left  the  matter 
in  the  hands  of  scouts,  and  were  content  with  the  ever- 
recurring  buttered  toast  and  eggs,  with  a  dish  of  broiled 
ham,  or  something  of  the  sort,  and  marmalade  and  bitter 
ale  to  finish  with  ;  but  Drysdale  was  not  an  ordinary  man, 
as  you  felt  in  a  moment  when  you  went  to  breakfast  with 
him  for  the  first  time. 

The  staircase  on  which  he  lived  was  inhabited,  except 
in  the  garrets,  by  men  in  the  fast  bet,  and  he  and  three 
others,  who  had  an  equal  aversion  to  solitary  feeding,  had 
established  a  breakfast-club,  in  which,  thanks  to  Drys- 
dale's genius,  real  scientific  gastronomy  was  cultivated. 
Every  morning  the  boy  from  the  Weirs  arrived  with 
freshly  caught  gudgeon,  and  now  and  then  an  eel  or  trout, 
which  the  scouts  on  the  staircase  had  learnt  to  fry  deli- 
cately in  oil.      Fresh  watercresses   came   in   the   same 


32  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFOED. 

basket,  and  the  college  kitchen  furnished  a  spitehco  iked 
chicken,  or  grilled  turkey's  leg.  In  the  season  there  were 
plover's  -eggs ;  or,  at  the  worst,  there  was  a  dainty  ome- 
lette ;  and  a  distant  baker,  famed  for  his  light  rolls  and 
high  charges,  sent  in  the  bread — the  common  domestic 
college  loaf  being  of  course  out  of  the  question  for  any 
one  with  the  slightest  pretensions  to  taste,  and  becoming 
the  perquisite  of  the  scouts.  Then  there  would  be  a  deep 
Yorkshire  pie,  or  reservoir  of  potted  game,  as  a  piece  de 
resistance,  and  three  or  four  sorts  of  preserves ;  and  a 
large  cool  tankard  of  cider  or  ale-cup  to  finish  up  with,  or 
soda-water  and  maraschino  for  a  change.  Tea  and  coffee 
were  there  indeed,  but  merely  as  a  compliment  to  those 
respectable  beverages,  for  they  were  rarely  touched  by 
the  breakfast-eaters  of  No.  3  staircase.  Pleasant  young 
gentlemen  were  on  No.  3  staircase ;  I  mean  the  ground 
and  first-floor  men  who  formed  the  breakfast-club,  for  the 
garrets  were  nobodies.  .  Three  out  of  the  four  were 
gentlemen-commoners,  with  allowances  of  £500  a  year  at 
least  each  ;  and,  as  they  treated  their  allowances  as  pocket- 
money  only,  and  went  tick  for  every  thing  which  the  wide 
range  of  Oxford  tradesmen  would  book,  and  as  they  were 
all  in  their  first  year,  ready  money  was  plenty  and  credit 
good ;  and  they  might  have  had  potted  hippopotamus  for 
breakfast  if  they  had  chosen  to  order  it,  which  I  verily 
believe  they  would  have  done  if  they  had  thought  of  it. 

Two  out  of  the  three  were  sons  of  rich  men  who  had 
made  their  own  fortunes,  and  sent  their  sons  to  St.  Am- 
brose's because  it  was  very  desirable  that  the  young  gentle- 
men should  make  good  connections.  In  fact,  the  fathers 
looked  upon  the  university  as  a  good  investment,  and 
gloried  much  in  hearing  their  sons  talk  familiarly  in  the 
vacations  of  their  dear  friends  Lord  Harry  This  and  Sir 
George  That. 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  33 

Drysdale,  the  third  of  the  set,  was  the  heir  of  an  old  a3 
well  as  of  a  rich  family,  and  consequently,*  having  his 
connection  ready  made  to  his  hand,  cared  little  enough 
whom  he  associated  with,  provided  they  were  pleasant 
fellows,  and  gave  him  good  food  and  wines.  His  whole 
idea  at  present  was  to  enjoy  himself  as  much  as  possible ; 
but  he  had  good  manly  stuff  in  him  at  the  bottom,  and, 
had  he  fallen  into  any  but  the  fast  set,  would  have  made 
a  fine  fellow,  and  done  credit  to  himself  and  his  college. 

The  fourth  man  of  the  breakfast-club,  the  Hon.  Piers 
St.  Cloud,  was  in  his  third  year,  and  was  a  very  well- 
dressed,  well-mannered,  and  well-connected  young  man. 
His  family  was  poor,  and  his  allowance  small,  but  he 
never  wanted  for  any  thing.  He  didn't  entertain  much, 
certainly,  but  when  he  did,  every  thing  was  in  the  best  pos- 
sible style.  He  was  very  exclusive,  and  knew  no  man  in 
college  out  of  the  fast  set ;  and  of  these  he  addicted  him- 
self chiefly  to  the  society  of  the  rich  freshmen,  for  some- 
how the  men  of  his  own  standing  seemed  a  little  shy  of 
him.  But  with  the  freshmen  he  was  always  hand  and 
glove,  lived  in  their  rooms,  and  used  their  wines,  horses, 
and  other  movable  property  as  his  own;  and,  being  a 
good  whist  and  billiard  player,  and  not  a  bad  jockey,  man- 
aged in  one  way  or  another  to  make  his  young  friends  pay 
well  for  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance  ;  as,  indeed,  why 
should  they  not,  at  least  those  of  them  who  came  to  col- 
lege to  form  eligible  connections  ?  for  had  not  his  remote 
lineal  ancestor  come  over  in  the  same  ship  with  William 
the  Conqueror  ?  were  not  all  his  relations  about  the  Court, 
as  lords  and  ladies  in  waiting,  white  sticks  or  black  rods, 
Rnd  in  the  innermost  of  all  possible  circles  of  the  great 
world  ?  and  was  there  a  better  coat  of  arms  than  he  bore 
in  all  Burke's  Peerage  ? 

Our  hero  had  met  Drysdale  at  a  house  in  the  country 


34  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

shortly  before  the  beginning  of  his  first  term,  and  they  had 
rather  taken  to  one  another  ;  so  as  soon  as  Tom  came  up, 
Drysdale  had  left  his  pasteboard ;  and,  as  he  came  out  of 
chapel  one  morning  shortly  after  his  arrival,  Drysdale's 
scout  came  up  to  him  with  an  invitation  to  breakfast.  So 
he  went  to  his  own  rooms,  ordered  his  commons  to  be 
taken  across  to  No.  3,  and  followed  himself  a  few  minutes 
afterwards.  No  one  was  in  the  rooms  when  he  arrived, 
for  none  of  the  club  had  finished  their  toilettes.  Morning 
chapel  was  not  meant  for,  or  cultivated  by,  gentlemen- 
commoners  ;  they  paid  double  chapel  fees,  in  considera- 
tion of  which,  I  suppose,  they  were  not  expected  to  attend 
so  often  as  the  rest  of  the  undergraduates ;  at  any  rate, 
they  didn't,  and  no  harm  came  to  them  in  consequence  of 
their  absence.  As  Tom  entered,  a  great  splashing  in  an 
inner  room  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  Drysdale's  voice 
shouted  out  that  he  was  in  his  tub,  but  would  be  with  him 
in  a  minute.  So  Tom  gave  himself  up  to  the  contemplation 
of  the  rooms  in  which  his  unfortunate  acquaintance  dwelt; 
and  very  pleasant  rooms  they  were.  The  large  room,  in 
which  the  breakfast-table  was  laid  for  five,  was  lofty  and 
well  proportioned,  and  panelled  with  old  oak,  and  the  fur- 
niture was  handsome  and  solid,  and  in  keeping  with  the 
room. 

There  were  four  deep  windows,  high  up  in  the  wall, 
with  cushioned  seats  under  them,  two  looking  into  the 
large  quadrangle,  and  two  into  the  inner  one.  Outside 
these  windows,  Drysdale  had  rigged  up  hanging  gardens, 
which  were  kept  full  of  flowers  by  the  first  nursery-man 
in  Oxford  all  the  year  round ;  so  that  even  on  this  Febru- 
ary morning,  the  scent  of  gardania  and  violets  pervaded 
the  room,  and  strove  for  mastery  with  the  smell  of  stale 
tobacco  which  hung  about  the  curtains  and  sofas.  There 
was  a  large  glass  in  an  oak  frame  over  the  mantelpiece, 


TOM    DROWN    AT    OXFORD.  35 

which  was  loaded  with  choice  pipes  and  cigar-case?,  and 
quaint  receptacles  for  tobacco  ;  and  by  the  side  of  the 
glass  hung  small  carved  oak  frames,  containing  lists  of  the 
meets  of  the  Heythrop,  the  Old  Berkshire,  and  Drake's 
hounds,  for  the  current  week.  There  was  a  queer  assort- 
ment of  well-framed  paintings  and  engravings  on  the 
wails ;  some  of  considerable  merit,  especially  some  -water- 
color  sea-pieces  and  engravings  from  Landseer's  pictures, 
mingled  with  which  hung  Taglioni  and  Cerito,  in  short 
petticoats  and  impossible  attitudes;  Phosphorus  winning 
the  Derby  ;  the  Death  of  Grimaldi  (the  famous  steeple- 
chase horse —  not  poor  old  Joe);  an  American  Trotting 
Match,  and  Jem  Belcher  and  Deaf  Burke  in  attitudes  of 
self-defence.  Several  tandem  and  riding  whips,  mounted 
in  heavy  silver,  and  a  double-barrelled  gun,  and  fishing 
rods,  occupied  one  corner,  and  a  polished  copper  cask, 
holding  about  five  gallons  of  mild  ale,  stood  in  another. 
In  short,  there  was  plenty  of  every  thing  except  books  — 
the  literature  of  the  world  being  represented,  so  far  as 
Tom  could  make  out  in  his  short  scrutiny,  by  a  few  well- 
bound  but  badly  used  volumes  of  classics,  with  the  crihf 
thereto  appertaining,  shoved  away  into  a  cupboard  which 
stood  half  open,  and  contained,  besides,  half-emptied  de- 
canters, and  large  pewters,  and  dog-collars,  and  packs  of 
cards,  and  all  sorts  of  miscellaneous  articles  to  serve  as  an 
antidote. 

Tom  had  scarcely  finished  his  short  survey,  when  the 
door  of  the  bedroom  opened,  and  Drysdale  emerged  in  a 
loose  jacket  lined  with  silk,  his  velvet  cap  on  his  head, 
and  otherwise  gorgeously  attired.  He  was  a  pleasant- 
looking  fellow,  of  middle  size,  with  dark  hair,  and  a  mcrrj- 
brown  eye,  with  a  twinkle  in  it  which  spoke  well  for  his 
pense  of  humor;  otherwise,  his  features  .were  rather  plain, 
but  he  had  the  look  and  manners  of  a  thoroughly  well- 
bred  gentleman. 


36  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

His  first  act,  after  nodding  to  Tom,  was  to  seize  on  a 
pewter  and  resort  to  the  cask  in  the  corner,  from  whence 
he  drew  a  pint  or  so  of  the  contents,  having,  as  he  said, 
u  '  a  whoreson  longing  for  that  poor  creature,  small  beer.' 
TVe  were  playing  Van-John  in  Blake's  rooms  till  three 
last  night,  and  he  gave  us  devilled  bones  and  mulled  port. 
A  felbw  can't  enjoy  his  breakfast  after  that  without  some- 
thing to  cool  his  coppers." 

Tom  was  as  yet  ignorant  of  what  Van-John  might  be, 
so  held  his  peace,  and  took  a  pull  at  the  beer  which  the 
other  handed  him;  and  then  the  scout  entered,  and  re- 
ceived orders  to  bring  up  Jack  and  the  breakfast,  and  not 
to  wait  for  any  one.  In  another  minute,  a  bouncing  and 
scrattling  was  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  a  white  bull-dog 
rushed  in,  a  gem  in  his  way  ;  for  his  brow  was  broad  and 
massive,  and  wrinkled  about  the  eyes ;  his  skin  was  as  fine 
as  a  lady's,  and  his  tail  taper  and  nearly  as  thin  as  a  clay 
pipe  ;  but  he  had  a  way  of  going  snuzzling  about  the  calves 
of  strangers  which  was  not  pleasant  for  nervous  people. 
Tom,  however,  was  used  to  dogs,  and  soon  became  friends 
with  him,  which  evidently  pleased  his  host.  And  then 
the  breakfast  arrived,  all  smoking,  and  with  it  the  two 
other  ingenious  youths,  in  velvet  caps  and  far  more 
gorgeous  apparel,  so  far  as  colors  went,  than  Drysdale. 
They  were  introduced  to  Tom,  who  thought  them  some- 
what ordinary  and  rather  loud  young  gentlemen.  One  of 
them  remonstrated  vigorously  against  the  presence  of  that 
confounded  dog,  and  so  Jack  was  sent  to  lie  down  in  a 
corner,  and  then  the  four  fell  to  work  upon  the  breakfast. 

It  was  a  good  lesson  in  gastronomy,  but  the  results  are 
scarcely  worth  repeating  here.  It  is  wonderful,  though, 
how  you  feel  drawn  to  a  man  who  feeds  you  well ;  and- 
as  Tom's  appetite  got  less,  his  liking  and  respect  for  his 
host  undoubtedly  increased. 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  37 

"When  they  had  nearly  finished,  in  walked  the  Honora- 
ble Piers,  a  tall,  slight  man,  two  or  three  years  older  than 
the  rest  of  them  ;  good-looking,  and  very  well  and  quietly 
dressed,  but  with  a  drawing  up  of  his  nostril,  and  a  draw- 
ing down  of  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  which  set  Tom 
against  him  at  once.  The  cool,  supercilious  half-nod, 
moreover,  to  which  he  treated  our  hero  when  introduced 
to  him,  was  enough  to  spoil  his  digestion,  and  hurt  his  self- 
love  a  good  deal  more  than  he  would  have  liked  to  own. 

"  Here,  Henry/'  said  the  Honorable  Piers  to  the  scout 
in  attendance,  seating  himself,  and  inspecting  the  half- 
cleared  dishes  ;  "  what  is  there  for  my  breakfast  ?  " 

Henry  bustled  about,  and  handed  a  dish  or  two. 

*  I  don't  want  these  cold  things  ;  haven't  you  kept  me 
any  gudgeon  ?  " 

"Why,  sir,"  said  Henry,  "there  was  only  two  dozen 
this  morning,  and  Mr.  Drysdale  told  me  to  cook  them  all." 

*'  To  be  sure  I  did,"  said  Drysdale.  "  Just  half  a  dozen 
for  each  of  us  four  :  they  were  firstrate.  If  you  can't  get 
here  at  half-past  nine,  you  wont  get  gudgeon,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  Just  go  and  get  me  a  broil  from  the  kitchen,"  said  the 
Honorable  Piers,  without  deigning  an  answer  to  Drysdale. 

*  Very  sorry,  sir  ;  kitchen's  shut  by  now,  sir,"  answered 
Henry. 

"  Then  go  to  Hinton's,  and  order  some  cutlets." 
"I   say,  Henry,"  shouted  Drysdale  to  the  retreating 
scout ;  "  not  to  my  tick,  mind !     Put  them  down  to  Mr. 
St.  Cloud." 

Henry  seemed  to  know  very  well  that  in  that  case  he 
might  save  himself  the  trouble  of  the  journey,  and  conse- 
quently returned  to  his  waiting  ;  and  the  Honorable  Piera 
Bet   to  work   upon   his   breakfast,  without   showing   any 
4 


58  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

further  ill-temper  certainly,  except  by  the  stinging  things 
which  he  threw  every  now  and  then  into  the  conversation, 
for  the  benefit  of  each  of  the  others  in  turn. 

Tom  thought  he  detected  signs  of  coming  hostilities 
between  his  host  and  St.  Cloud,  for  Drysdale  seemed  to 
prick  up  his  ears  and  get  combative  whenever  the  other 
spoke,  and  lost  no  chance  of  roughing  him  in  his  replies. 
And,  indeed,  he  wasn't  far  wrong  ;  the  fact  being,  that  dur- 
ing Drysdale's  first  term,  the  other  had  lived  on  him — 
drinking  his  wine,  smoking  his  cigars,  driving  his  dog-cart, 
and  winning  his  money  ;  all  which  Drysdale,  who  was  the 
easiest-going  and  best-tempered  fellow  in  Oxford,  would 
have  stood  without  turning  a  hair:  but  St.  Cloud  addeil 
to  these  little  favors  a  half-patronizing,  half-contemptuous 
manner,  which  he  used  with  great  success  towards  some  of 
the  other  gentlemen-commoners,  who  thought  it  a  mark  of 
high  breeding,  and  the  correct  thing,  but  which  Drysdale, 
who  didn't  care  three  straws  about  knowing  St.  Cloud, 
wasn't  going  to  put  up  with. 

However,  nothing  happened  beyond  a  little  sparring, 
and  the  breakfast  things  were  cleared  away,  and  the  tank- 
ards left  on  the  table,  and  the  company  betook  themselves 
to  cigars  and  easy  chairs ;  Jack  coming  out  of  his  corner 
to  be  gratified  with  some  of  the  remnants  by  his  fond  mas- 
ter, and  then  curling  himself  up  on  the  sofa  along  which 
Drysdale  lounged. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day,  Drysdale?"  said 
one  of  the  others.  "  I've  ordered  a  leader  sent  on  over 
the  bridge,  and  mean  to  drive  my  dog-cart  over,  and  dine 
at  Abingdon.     Wont  you  come  ?  " 

"Who's  going  besides?"  asked  Drysdale. 

"  Oh,  only  St.  Cloud  and  Farley  here.  There's  lots  of 
room  for  a  fourth." 


TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  39 

"  No.  thank'ee  ;  teaming's  slow  work  on  the  back  seat  \ 
besides,  I've  half  promised  to  go  down  in  the  boat." 

"In  the  boat !"  shouted  the  other.  "  "Why  you  don't 
mean  to  say  you're  going  to  take  to  pulling  ?  " 

"  "WeU,  I  don't  know ;  I  rather  think  I  am.  I'm  dog- 
tired  of  driving  and  doing  the  High  Street,  and  playing 
cards  and  billiards  all  day,  and  our  boat  is  likely  to  be 
head  of  the  river,  I  think." 

"  By  Jove  !  1  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  your  tak- 
ing to  reading,  or  going  to  University  Sermon,"  put  in  St. 
Cloud. 

"  And  the  boating-men,  too,"  went  on  Farley ;  "  did  you 
ever  see  such  a  set,  St.  Cloud  ?  with  their  everlasting  flan- 
nels and  jerseys,  and  hair  cropped  like  prize-fighters." 

"  I'll  bet  a  guinea  there  isn't  one  of  them  has  more  than 
£200  a-year,"  put  in  Chanter,  whose  father  could  just 
write  his  name,  and  was  making  a  colossal  fortune  by  sup- 
plying bad  iron  rails  to  the  new  railway  companies. 

"  What  the  Devil  do  I  care,"  broke  in  Drysdale ;  "  I 
know  they're  a  deal  more  amusing  than  you  fellows,  who 
can  do  nothing  that  don't  cost  pounds." 

"  Getting  economical !  "  sneered  St.  Cloud. 

"  "Well,  I  don't  see  the  fun  of  tearing  one's  heart  out, 
and  blistering  one's  hands,  only  to  get  abused  by  that  little 
brute,  Miller  the  coxswain,"  said  Farley. 

"  "Why  you  wont  be  able  to  sit  straight  in  your  chair  for 
a  month,"  said  Chanter ;  "  and  the  captain  will  make  you 
dine  at  one,  and  fetch  you  out  of  anybody's  rooms,  con- 
found his  impudence,  whether  he  knows  them  or  not,  at 
eleven  o'clock  every  night." 

"  Two  cigars  a  day,  and  a  pint  and  a  half  of  liquid," 
and  Farley  inserted  his  cod-fish  face  into  the  tankard ; 
"  fancy  Drysdale  on  training  allowance  !  " 


40  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Here  a  new-comer  entered  in  a  bachelor's  gown,  who 
was  warmly  greeted  by  the  name  of  Sanders,  by  Drysdale. 
St.  Cloud  and  he  exchanged  the  coldest  possible  nods ; 
and  the  other  two,  taking  the  office  from  their  mentor, 
stared  at  him  through  their  smoke,  and,  after  a  minute  or 
two's  silence,  and  a  few  rude,  half-whispered  remarks 
amongst  themselves,  went  off  to  play  a* game  at  pyramids 
till  luncheon  time.  Sanders  took  a  cigar  which  Drysdale 
offered,  and  began  asking  him  about  his  friends  at  home, 
and  what  he  had  been  doing  in  the  vacation. 

They  were  evidently  intimate,  though  Tom  thought  that 
Drysdale  didn't  seem  quite  at  his  ease  at  first,  which  he 
wondered  at,  as  Sanders  took  his  fancy  at  once.  However, 
eleven  o'clock  struck,  and  Tom  had  to  go  off  to  lecture, 
where  we  cannot  follow  him  just  now,  but  must  remain  with 
Drysdale  and  Sanders,  who  chatted  on  very  pleasantly  for 
6ome  twenty  minutes,  till  a  knock  came  at  the  door.  It 
was  not  till  the  third  summons  that  Drysdale  shouted 
"  Come  in,"  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  an  impa- 
tient kick  at  the  sofa  cushion  at  his  feet,  as  though  he  were 
not  half  pleased  at  the  approaching  visit. 

Reader  !  had  you  not  ever  a  friend  a  few  years  older 
tha*n  yourself,  whose  good  opinion  you  were  anxious  to 
keep  ?  A  fellow  teres  atque  rotundus  ;  who  could  do  every 
thing  better  than  you,  from  Plato  and  tennis  down  to  sing- 
ing a  comic  song  and  playing  quoits  ?  If  you  have  had, 
wasn't  he  always  in  your  rooms  or  company  whenever  any 
thing  happened  to  show  your  little  weak  points  ?  Sanders, 
at  any  rate,  occupied  this  position  towards  our  young 
friend  Drysdale,  and  the  latter,  much  as  he  liked  Sanders' 
company,  would  have  preferred  it  at  any  other  time  than 
on  an  idle  morning,  just  at  the  beginning  of  term,  when 
the  gentlemen  tradesmen,  who  look  upon  undergraduates 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  41 

in   general,  and  gentlemen-commoners  in  particular,  as 
their  lawful  prey,  are  in  the  habit  of  calling  in  flocks. 

The  new  arrival  was  a  tall,  florid  man,  with  a  half-ser- 
vile, half-impudent  manner,  and  a  foreign  accent ;  dressed 
in  sumptuous  costume,  with  a  velvet-faced  coat,  and  a 
gorgeous  plush  waistcoat.  Under  his  arm  he  carried  a 
large  parcel,  which  he  proceeded  to  open,  and  placed  upon 
a  sofa  the  contents,  consisting  of  a  couple  of  coats,  and 
three  or  four  waistcoats  and  pairs  of  trousers.  He  saluted 
Sanders  with  a  most  obsequious  bow,  looked  nervously  at 
Jack,  who  opened  one  eye  from  between  his  master's  legs 
and  growled,  and  then,  turning  to  Drysdale,  asked  if  he 
should  have  the  honor  of  seeing  him  try  on  any  of  the 
clothes  ? 

"  No ;  I  can't  be  bored  with  trying  them  on  now,"  said 
Drysdale  ;  "  leave  them  where  they  are." 

Mr.  Schloss  would  like  very  much  on  his  return  to 
town,  in  a  day  or  two,  to  be  able  to  assure  his  principals, 
that  Mr.  Drysdale's  orders  had  been  executed  to  his  satis- 
faction. He  had  also  some  very  beautiful  new  stuffs  with 
him  which  he  should  like  to  submit  to  Mr.  Drysdale  ;  and 
without  more  ado  began  unfolding  cards  of  the  most  fabu- 
lous plushes  and  cloths, 

Drysdale  glanced  first  at  the  cards  and  then  at  Sanders, 
who  sat  puffing  his  cigar,  and  watching  Schloss'  proceed- 
ings with  a  look  not  unlike  Jack's,  when  any  one  he  did 
not  approve  of  approached  his  master, 

"  Confound  your  patterns,  Schloss,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  I 
tell  you  I've  more  things  than  I  want  already." 

a  The  large  stripe,  such  as  these,  is  now  \ery  much  worn 
for  trousers  in  London,"  went  on  Schloss,  without  heeding 
the  rebuff,  and  spreading  his  cards  on  the  table. 
4* 


42  T03I   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"D trousers,"   replied   Drysdale;  "you   seem   to 

think,  Schloss,  that  a  fellow  has  ten  pairs  of  legs." 

"  Monsieur  is  pleased  to  joke,"  smiled  Schloss ;  "  but,  to 
be  in  the  mode,  gentlemen  must  have  variety." 

"Well,  I  wont  order  any  now,  that's  flat,"  said  Drys- 
dale. 

"  Monsieur  will  do  as  he  pleases  ;  but  it  is  impossible 
that  he  should  not  have  some  plush  waistcoats  ;  the  fabric 
is  only  just  out,  and  is  making  a  sensation." 

"  Now  look  here,  Schloss ;  will  you  go  if  I  order  a 
waistcoat  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  is  very  good ;  he  sees  how  tasteful  these  new 
patterns  are." 

"  I  wouldn't  be  seen  at  a  cock-fight  in  one  of  them ; 
they're  as  gaudy  as  a  salmon-fly,"  said  Drysdale,  feeling 
the  stuff  which  the  obsequious  Schloss  held*  out.  "But  it 
seems  nice  stuff,  too,"  he  went  on ;  "  I  shouldn't  mind 
having  a  couple  of  waistcoats  of  it  of  this  pattern ; "  and 
he  chucked  across  to  Schloss  a  dark  tartan  waistcoat  which 
was  lying  near  him.  "  Have  you  got  the  stuff  in  that 
pattern  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  no,"  said  Schloss,  gathering  up  the  waistcoat ; 
"  but  it  shall  not  hinder.  I  shall  have  at  once  a  loom  for 
monsieur  set  up  in  Paris." 

"  Set  it  up  at  Jericho  if  you  like,"  said  Drysdale ;  "and 
now  go ! " 

"May  I  ask,  Mr.  Schloss,"  broke  in  Sanders,  "what 
it  will  cost  to  set  up  the  loom  ?  "  ' 

"Ah!  indeed,  a  trifle  only;  some  twelve  or  perhaps 
fourteen  pounds."  Sanders  gave  a  chuckle,  and  puffed 
away  at  his  cigar. 

"  By  Jove,"  shouted  Drysdale,  jerking  himself  into  a 
sitting  posture,  and  upsetting   Jack,  who   went   trotting 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  43 

about  the  room,  and  snuffing  at  Schloss^  legs ;  "  do  you 
mean,  to  say,  Schloss,  you  were  going  to  make  me  waist- 
coats at  fourteen  guineas   apiece  ?  " 

"  Not  if  monsieur  disapproves.  Ah !  the  large  hound  is 
not  friendly  to  strangers ;  I  will  call  again  when  monsieur 
is  more  at  leisure."  And  Schloss  gathered  up  his  cards 
and  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  followed  by  Jack  with  his  head 
on  one  side,  and  casting  an  enraged  look  at  Sanders,  as 
he  slid  through  the  door. 

"  Well  done,  Jack,  old  boy  !  "  said  Sanders,  patting 
him ;  "  what  a  funk  the  fellow  was  in.  Well,  you've 
saved  your  master  a  pony  this  fine  morning.  Cheap  dog 
you've  got,  Drysdale." 

"  D the  fellow,"  answered  Drysdale,  "  he  leaves  a 

bad  taste  in  one's,  mouth ; "  and  he  went  to  the  table,  took 
a  pull  at  the  tankard,  and  then  threw  himself  down  on 
the  sofa  again,  and  Jack  jumped  up  and  coiled  himself 
round  by  his  master's  legs,  keeping  one  half-open  eye 
winking  at  him,  and  giving  an  occasional  wag  with  the 
end  of  his  taper  tail. 

Sanders  got  up,  and  began  handling  the  new  things. 
First  he  held  up  a  pair  of  bright  blue  trousers,  with  a 
red  stripe  across  them,  Drysdale  looking  on  from  the 
Bofa.  "  I  say,  Drysdale,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  really 
ordered  these  thunder-and-lightning  affairs  ?  " 

"Heaven  only  knows,"  said  Drysdale;  "I  dare  say  I 
did.  I'd  order  a  full  suit  cut  out  of  my  grandmother's 
farthingale  to  get  that  cursed  Schloss  out  of  "my  rooms 
sometimes." 

"You'll  never  be  able  to  wear  them;  even  in  Oxford 
the  boys  would  mob  you.  Why  don't  you  kick  him 
down-stairs  ?  "  suggested  Sanders,  putting  down  the  trou* 
eers;  and  turning  to  Drysdale. 


44  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Well,  I've  been  very  near  it  once  or  twice  \  but,  I 
don't  know  —  my  name's  Easy —  besides,  I  don't  want  to 
give  up  the  beast  altogether ;  he  makes  the  best  trousers 
in  England." 

"And  these  waistcoats,"  went  on  Sanders;  "let  me 
see ;  three  light  silk  waistcoats,  peach-color,  fawn-color, 
and  lavender.  "Well,  of  course,  you  can  only  wear  these 
at  your  weddings.  You  may  be  married  the  first  time  in 
the  peach  or  fawn-color ;  and  then,  if  you've  luck,  and 
bury  your  first  wife  soon,  it  will  be  a  delicate  compliment 
to  take  to  No.  2  in  the  lavender,  that  being  half-mourn- 
ing ;  but  still,  you  see,  we're  in  difficulty  as  to  one  of  the 
three,  either  the  peach  or  the  fawn-color  — " 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  another  knock,  and  a 
boy  entered  from  the  fashionable  tobacconist's  in  Oriel 
Lane,  who  had  general  orders  to  let  Drysdale  have  his 
fair  share  of  any  thing  very  special  in  the  cigar  line. 
He  deposited  a  two-pound  box  of  cigars  at  three  guineas 
the  pound  on  the  table,  and  withdrew  in  silence. 

Then  came  a  bootmaker  with  a  new  pair  of  top-boot^ 
which  Drysdale  had  ordered  in  November,  and  had  for- 
gotten next  day.  This  artist,  wisely  considering  that  his 
young  patron  must  have  plenty  of  tops  to  last  him  through 
the  hunting  season  (he  himself  having  supplied  three 
?^*jvious  pairs  in  October),  had  retained  the  present  pair 
for  show  in  his  window ;  and  every  one  knows  that  boots 
wear  much  better  for  being  kept  some  time  before 
use.  Now,  however,  as  the  hunting  season  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  and  the  place  in  the  window  was  wanted  for 
spring  stock,  he  judiciously  sent  in  the  tops,  merely  adding 
half  a  sovereign  or  so  to  the  price  for  interest  on  his  outlay 
6ince  the  order.  He  also  kindly  left  on  the  table  a  pair 
of  large  plated  spurs  to  match  the  boots. 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  45 

It  never  rains  but  it  pours.  Sanders  sat  smoking  his 
cigar  in  provoking  silence,  while  knock  succeeded  knock, 
and  tradesman  followed  tradesman  ;  each  depositing  some 
article  ordered,  or  supposed  to  have  been  ordered,  or 
which  ought  in  the  judgment  of  the  depositors  to  have 
been  ordered,  by  the  luckless  Diysdale  ;  and  new  hats 
and  ties  and  gloves  and  pins  jostled  balsam  of  Neroli 
and  registered  shaving-soap  and  fancy  letter-paper  and 
eau  de  Cologne,  on  every  available  table.  A  visit  from 
two  livery-stable-keepers  in  succession  followed,  each  of 
whom  had  several  new  leaders  which  they  were  anxious 
Mr.  Drysdale  should  try  as  soon  as  possible.  Drysdale 
growled  and  grunted,  and  wished  them  or  Sanders  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea ;  however,  he  consoled  himself  with  the 
thought  that  the  worst  was  now  past,  —  there  was  no 
other  possible  supplier  of  undergraduate  wants  who  could 
arrive.  - 

Not  so  ;  in  another  minute  a  gentle  knock  came  at  the 
door ;  Jack  pricked  up  his  ears  and  wagged  his  tail ; 
Drysdale  recklessly  shouted,  "  Come  in ! "  and  the  door 
slowly  opened  about  eighteen  inches,  and  a  shock  head  of 
hair  entered  the  room,  from  which  one  lively  little  gimlet 
eye  went  glancing  about  into  every  corner ;  the  other  eye 
was  closed,  but  whether  as  a  perpetual  wink  to  indicate 
the  unsleeping  weariness  of  the  owner,  or  because  that 
hero  had  really  lost  the  power  of  using  it  in  some  of  his 
numerous  encounters  with  men  and  beasts,  no  one,  so  far 
as  I  know,  has  ever  ascertained. 

"Ah !  Mr.  Drysdale,  sir  !  "  began  the  head ;  and  then 
rapidly  withdrew  behind  the  door,  to  avoid  one  of  the 
spurs,  which  (being  the  missile  nearest  at  hand)  Drysdale 
instantly  discharged  at  it.  As  the  spur  fell  to  the  floor, 
the  head  re-appeared  in  the  room,  and  as  quickly  disap- 
peared  again,  in  deference  to  the   other  spur,  the   top 


46  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

boots,  an  ivory-handled  hair-brush,  and  a  translation  of 
Euripedes,  which  in  turn  saluted  each  successive  appear- 
ance of  said  head ;  and  the  grin  was  broader  on  each  re- 
appearance. 

Then  Drysdale,  having  no  other  article  within  reach 
which  he  could  throw,  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter, 
in  which  Sanders  and  the  head  heartily  joined,  and 
shouted,  "  Come  in,  Joe,  you  old  fool !  and  don't  stand 
bobbing  your  ugly  old  mug  in  and  out  there,  like  a  jack 
in  the  box." 

So  the  head  came  in,  and  after  it  the  body,  and  closed 
the  door  behind  it ;  and  a  queer,  cross-grained,  tough- 
looking  body  it  was,  of  about  fifty  years'  standing,  or 
rather  slouching,  clothed  in  old  fustian  coat,  and  cordu- 
roy breeches  and  gaiters,  and  being  the  earthly  taber- 
nacle of  Joe  Muggles,  the  dog-fancier  of  St.  Aldate's. 

"  How  the  deuce  did  you  get  by  the  lodge,  Joe  ?  "  in- 
quired Drysdale.  Joe,  be  it  known,  had  been  forbidden 
the  college  for  importing  a  sack  of  rats  into  the  inner 
quadrangle,  upon  the  turf  of  which  a  match  at  rat-killing 
had  come  off  between  the  terriers  of  two  gentlemen-com- 
moners. This  little  event  might  have  passed  unnoticed, 
but  that  Drysdale  had  bought  from  Joe  a  dozen  of  the 
slaughtered  rats,  and  nailed  them  on  the  doors  of  the  four 
college  tutors,  three  to  a  door;  whereupon  inquiry  had 
been  made,  and  Joe  had  been  outlawed. 

"  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Drysdale,  sir,  I  just  watched  the  'ed 
porter,  sir,  across  to  the  buttery  to  get  his  mornin',  and 
then  I  tips  the  wink  to  the  under-porter  (pal  o'  mine,  sir, 
the  under-porter)  and  makes  a  run  of  it  right  up." 

"  Well,  you'll  be  quod'ed  if  you're  caught !  Now,  what 
do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,  Mr.  Drysdale,  sir,"  said  Joe,  in  his  most 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  47 

insinuating  tone,  "  my  mate  hev'  got  a  old  dog  brock,  sir, 
from  the  Ileythrop  kennel,  and  Ilonble  Wernham,  sir,  of 
New  Inn  'All,  sir,  he've  jist  been  down  our  yard  with  a 
fighting  chap  from  town,  Mr.  Drysdale  —  in  the  fancy,  sir, 
he  is,  and  hev'  got  a  matter  of  three  dogs  down  wi'  un, 
stoppin'  at  Milky  Bill's.  And  he  says,  says  he,  Mr.  Drys- 
dale, as  arra  one  of  he's  dogs  '11  draw  the  old  un  three 
times,  while  arra  Oxford  dog  '11  draw  un  twice,  and  Honble 
Wernham  chaffs  as  how  he'll  backun  for  a  fi'pun  note;"— 
and  Joe  stopped  to  caress  Jack,  who  was  fawning  on  him 
as  if  he  understood  every  word. 

"  Well,  Joe,  what  then  ?  "  said  Drysdale. 

"  So*  you  see,  Mr.  Drysdale,  sir,"  went  on  Joe,  fondling 
Jack's  muzzle,  "  my  mate  says,  says  he,  '  Jack's  the  dog  as 
can  draw  a  brock,'  says  he,  '  agin  any  Lunnun  dog  as  ever 
was  whelped ;  and  Mr.  Drysdale,'  says  he,  '  aint  the  man 
as  'd  see  two  poor  chaps  bounced  out  of  their  honest  name 
.by  arra  town  chap,  and  a  fi'pun  note's  no  more  to  he,  for 
the  matter  o'  that,  than  to  Honble  Wernham  his  self,'  says 
my  mate." 

"  So  I'm  to  lend  you  Jack  for  a  match,  and  stand  the 
stakes  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Drysdale,  sir,  that  was  what  my  mate  was 
a  sayin'." 

"  You're  cool  hands,  you  and  your  mate,"  said  Drys- 
dale ;  "  here,  take  a  drink,  and  get  out,  and  I'll  think  about 
it."  Drysdale  was  now  in  a  defiant  humor,  and  resolved 
not  to  let  Sanders  think  that  his  presence  could  keep  him 
from  any  act  of  folly  which  he  was  minded  to. 

Joe  took  his  drink ;  and  just  then  several  men  came  in 
from  lecture,  and  drew  off  Drysdale's  attention  from  Jack, 
who  quietly  followed  Joe  out  of  the  room,  when  that 
worthy  disappeared.     Drysdale   only  laughed   when   he 


48  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

found  it  out,  and  went  down  to  the  yard  that  afternoon  to 
Bee  the  match  between  the  London  dog  and  his  own  pet. 

"  How  in  the  world  are  youngsters  with  unlimited 
credit,  plenty  of  ready  money,  and  fast  tastes,  to  be  kept 
from  making  fools  and  blackguards  of  themselves  up 
'here  ?  "  thought  Sanders  as  he  strolled  back  to  his  college. 
And  it  is  a  question  which  has  exercised  other  heads  be- 
sides his,  aud  probably  is  a  ^>ng  way  yet  from  being  welJ 
Bolved. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    ST.   AMBROSE   BOAT-CLUB:   ITS   MINISTRY  AND 
THEIR    BUDGET. 

We  left  our  hero,  a  short  time  back,  busily  engaged  on 
his  dinner  commons,  and  resolved  forthwith  to  make  great 
friends  with  Hardy.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  there 
could  be  the  slightest  difficulty  in  carrying  out  this  re- 
solve. After  such  a  j)assage  as  they  two  had  had  together 
that  afternoon,  he  felt  that  the  usual  outworks  of  acquaint- 
anceship had  been  cleared  at  a  bound,  and  looked*  upon 
Hardy  already  as  an  old  friend  to  whom  he  could  talk  out 
his  mind  as  freely  as  he  had  been  used  to  do  to  his  old 
tutor  at  school,  or  to  Arthur.  Moreover,  as  there  were 
already  several  things  in  his  head  which  he  was  anxious 
to  ventilate,  he  was  all  the  more  pleased  that  .chance  had 
thrown  him  across  a  man  of  so  much  older  standing  than 
himself,  and  one  to  whom  he  instinctively  felt  that  he 
could  look  up. 

Accordingly,  after  grace  had  been  said,  and  he  saw  that 
Hardy  had  not  finished  his  dinner,  but  sat  down  again 
when  the  fellows  had  left  the  hall,  he  strolled  out,  mean- 
ing to  wait  for  his  victim  outside,  and  seize  upon  him  then 
and  there ;  so  he  stopped  on  the  steps  outside  the  hall- 
door,  and,  to  pass  the  time,  joined  himself  to  one  or  two 
other  men  with  wThom  he  had  a  speaking  acquaintance, 
who  were  also  hanging  about.  While  they  were  talking, 
Hardy  came  out  of  hall,  and  Tom  turned  and  stepped  for- 
ward, meaning  to  speak  to  him ;  when,  to  his  utter  dis- 
5 


50  TOM   BROWN   4T    OXFORD. 

coraCiture,  the  other  walked  quickly  away,  looking  straight 
before  him,  and  without  showing,  by  look  or  gesture,  that 
he  was  conscious  of  our  hero's  existence,  or  had  ever  seen 
him  before  in  his  life. 

Tom  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  made  no  effort  to  fol- 
low. He  just  glanced  at  his  companions  to  see  whether 
they  had  noticed  the  occurrence,  and  was  glad  to  see  that 
they  had  not  (being  deep  in  the  discussion  of  the  merits 
of  a  new  hunter  of  Simmon's,  which  one  of  them  had  been 
riding)  ;  so  he  walked  away  by  himself  to  consider  what 
it  could  mean.  But  the  more  he  puzzled  about  it,  the  less 
could  he  understand  it.  Surely,  he  thought,  Hardy  must 
have  seen  me ;  and  yet,  if  he  had,  why  did  he  not  recog- 
nize me  ?  My  cap  and  gown  can't  be  such  a  disguise  as 
all  that.  But  common  decency  must  have  led  him  to  ask 
whether  I  was  any  the  worse  for  my  ducking,  if  he  knew 
me. 

He  scouted  the  notion,  which  suggested  itself  once  or 
twice,  that  Hardy  meant  to  cut  him ;  and  so,  not  being 
able  to  come  to  any  reasonable  conclusion,  suddenly  be- 
thought him  that  he  was  asked  to  a  wine  party ;  and,  put- 
ting his  speculations  aside  for  the  moment,  with  the  full 
intention  nevertheless  of  clearing  up  the  mystery  as  soon 
as  possible,  he  betook  himself  to  the  rooms  of  his  enter- 
tainer. 

They  were  fair-sized  rooms  in  the  second  quadrangle, 
furnished  plainly  but  well,  so  far  as  Tom  could  judge  ;  but 
as  they  were  now  laid  out  for  the  wine  party,  they  had 
lost  all  individual  character  for  the  time.  Every  one  of 
us,  I  suppose,  is  fond  of  studying  the  rooms,  chambers,  dens 
in  short,  of  whatever  sort  they  may  be,  of  our  friends  and 
acquaintance  —  at  least,  I  know  that  I  myself  like  to  see 
what  sort  of  a  chair  a  man  sits  in,  where  he  puts  it,  what 
books  lie  or  stand  on  the  shelves  nearest  his  hand,  what 


TOM    BRaWN    AT    OXFORD.  51 

the  objects  are  which,  he  keeps  most  familiarly  before  him, 
in  that  particular  nook  of  the  earth's  surface  in  which  he 
is  most  at  home,  -where  he  pulls  off  his  coat,  collar,  and 
boots,  and  gets  into  an  old  easy  shooting-jacket,  and  hia 
broadest  slippers.  Fine  houses  and  fine  rooms  have  no 
attraction  whatever,  I  should  think,  for  most  men.  and 
those  who  have  the  finest  drawing-rooms  are  probably  the 
most  bored  by  them ;  but  the  den  of  a  man  you  like,  or 
are  disposed  to  like,  has  the  strongest  and  strangest  attrac- 
tion for  you.  However,  as  I  was  saying,  an  Oxford  un- 
dergraduate's room,  set  out  for  a  wine  party,  can  tell  you 
nothing.  All  the  characteristics  are  shoved  away  into  the 
background,  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  long 
mahogany  set  out  with  bottles,  glasses,  and  dessert.  In 
the  present  instance  the  preparations  for  festivity  were 
'pretty  much  what  they  ought  to  be:  good  sound  port  and 
shei'ry,  biscuits,  and  a  plate  or  two  of  nuts  and  dried 
fruits.  The  host,  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  board,  was 
one  of  the  mainstays  of  the  college  boat-club.  He  was 
treasurer  of  the  club,  and  also  a  sort  of  boating-nurse, 
who  looked  up  and  trained  the  young  oars,  and  in  this  ca- 
pacity had  been  in  command  of  the  freshmen's  four-oar,  in 
which  Tom  had  been  learning  his  rudiments.  He  was  a 
heavy,  burly  man,  naturally  awkward  in  his  movements, 
but  gifted  with  a  sort  of  steady,  dogged  enthusiasm,  and 
by  dint  of*  hard  and  constant  training  had  made  himself 
into  a  most  useful  oar,  fit  for  any  place  in  the  middle  of 
the  boat.  In  the  two  years  of  his  residence  he  had  pulled 
down  to  Sandford  every  day  except  Sundays,  and  much 
further  whenever  he  could  get  anybody  to  accompany 
hini.  He  was  the  most  good-natured  man  in  the  world, 
very  badly  dressed,  very  short-sighted,  and  called  every- 
body "  old  fellow."  His  name  was  simple  Smith,  gener- 
ally known  as  Diogenes  Smith,  from  an  eccentric  habit 


52  TOM    BROWN    AT.  OXFORD. 

which  he  had  of  making  an  easy-chair  of  his  hip-bath. 
Mattcious  acquaintance  declared  that  when  Smith  first  came 
up.  and,  having  paid  the  valuation  for  the  furniture  in  his 
rooms,  came  to  inspect  the  same,  the  tub  in  question  had 
been  left  by  chance  in  the*  sitting-room,  and  that  Smith, 
not  having  the  faintest  idea  of  its  proper  use,  had  by  the 
exercise  of  2ns  natural  reason  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  could  only  be  meant  for  a  man  to  sit  in,  and  so  had  kept 
it  in  his  sitting-room,  and  taken  to  it  as  an  arm-chair. 
This  I  have  reason  to  believe  was  a  libel.  Certain  it  is, 
however,  that  in  his  first  term  he  was  discovered  sitting 
solemnly  in  his  tub,  by  his  fireside,  with  his  spectacles  on, 
playing  the  flute  —  the  only  other  recreation  besides  boat- 
ing in  which  he  indulged;  and  no  amount  of  quizzing 
could  get  him  out  of  the  habit.  When  alone,  or  with  only 
one  or  two  friends  in  his  room,  he  still  occupied  the  tub ;' 
and  declared  that  it  was  the  most  perfect  of  seats  hitherto 
invented,  and,  above  all,  adapted  for  the  recreation  of  a 
boating-roan,  to  whom  cushioned  seats  should  be  an  abom- 
ination. He  was  naturally  a  very  hospitable  man,  and  on 
this  night  was  particularly  anxious  to  make  his  rooms 
pleasant  to  all  comers,  as  it  was  a  sort  of  opening  of  the 
boating  season.  This  wine  of  his  was  a  business  matter, 
in  fact,  to  which  Diogenes  had  invited  officially,  as  treas- 
urer of  the  boat-club,  every  man  who  had  ever  shown 
the  least  tendency  to  pulling,  —  many  with  whom  he  had 
scarcely  a  nod&ag  acquaintance.  For  Miller,  the  cox- 
swain, had  come  up  at  last.  He  had  taken  his  B.A.  de- 
gree in  the  Michaelmas  term,  and  been  very  near  starting 
for  a  tour  in  the  East.  Upon  turning  the  matter  over  in 
his  mind,  however,  Miller  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
Palestine,  and  Egypt,  and  Greece  could  not  run  away,  but 
that,  unless  he  was  there  to  keep  matters  going,  the  St. 
Ambrose  boat  would  lose  the  best   chance  it  was  ever 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFOED.  53 

likely  tc  have  of  getting  to  the  head  of  the  river;  so  he 
had  patriotically  resolved  to  reside  till  June,  read  divinity, 
and  coach  the  racing  crew ;  and  had  written  to  Diogenes 
to  call  together  the  whole  boating  interest  of  the  college, 
that  they  might  set  to  work  at  once  in  good  earnest 
Tom,  and  the  three  or  four  other  freshmen  present,  were 
duly  presented  to  Miller  as  they  came  in,  who  looked 
them  over  as  the  colonel  of  a  crack  regiment  might  loolr 
over  horses  at  Horncastle-fair,  with  a  single  eye  to  their 
bone  and  muscle,  and  how  much  work  might  be  gcf 
out  of  them.  They  then  gathered  towards  the  lower  end 
of  the  long  table,  and  surveyed  the  celebrities  at  the  up- 
per end  with  much  respect.  Miller,  the  coxswain,  sat  on 
the  host's  right  hand,  —  a  slight,  resolute,  fiery  little  manf 
with  curly  black  hair.  He  was  peculiarly  qualified  by 
nature  for  the  task  which  he  had  set  himself;  and  it  takes 
no  mean  qualities  to  keep  a  boat's  crew  well  together  and 
in  order.  Perhaps  he  erred  a  little  on  the  side  of  over- 
strictness  and  severity ;  and  he  certainly  would  have  beeir 
more  popular  had  his  manner  been  a  thought  more  cour? 
teous ;  but  the  men  who  rebelled  most  against  his  tyranny 
grumblingly  confessed  that  he  was  a  firstrate  coxswain. 
A  very  different  man  was  the  captain  of  the  boat,  who 
sat  opposite  to  Miller ;  altogether  a  noble  specimen  of  a 
very  noble  type  of  our  countrymen.  Tall  and  strong  of 
body;  courageous  and  even-tempered;  tolerant  of  all 
men  ;  sparing  of  speech,  but  ready  in  action  ;  a  thoroughly 
well-balanced,  modest,  quiet  Englishman  ;  —  one  of  those 
who  do  a  good  stroke  of  the  work  of  the  country  without 
getting  much  credit  for  it,  or  ever  becoming  aware  of  the 
fact ;  for  the  last  thing  such  men  understand  is  how  to 
blow  their  own  trumpets.  He  was  perhaps  too  easy  for 
the  captain  of  St.  Ambrose's  boat-club ;  at  any  rate,  Mil- 
ler was  always  telling  him  so ;  but,  if  he  were  not  strict 
5* 


54:  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

enough  with  others,  he  never  spared  himself,  and  was  as 
good  as  three  men  in  the  boat  at  a  pinch. 

But  if  I  venture  on  more  introductions,  my  readers  will 
get  bewildered ;  so  I  must  cltfse  the  list,  much  as  I  should 
like  to  make  them  known  to  "  fortis  Gyas  fortisque  Cloar- 
thus,"  who  sat  round  the  chiefs,  laughing  and  consulting, 
and  speculating  on  the  chances  of  the  coming  races.  No ; 
stay,  there  is  one  other  man  they  must  make  room  for. 
Here  he  comes,  rather  late,  in  a  very  glossy  hat,  the  only 
man  in  the  room  not  in  cap  and  gown.  He  walks  up  and 
takes  his  place  by  the  side  of  the  host  as  a  matter  of 
course ;  a  handsome,  pale  man,  with  a  dark,  quick  eye, 
conscious  that  he  draws  attention  wherever  he  goes,  and 
apparently  of  opinion  that  it  is  his  right. 

"  Who  is  that  who  has  just  come  in  in  beaver  ?  "  said 
Tom,  touching  the  man  next  to  him. 

"  Oh  !  don't  you  know  ?  that's  Blake  ;  he's  the  most 
wonderful  fellow  in  Oxford,"  answered  his  neighbor. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Tom. 

*  Why,  he  can  do  every  thing  better  than  almost  any- 
body, and  without  any  trouble  at  alL  Miller  was  obliged 
to  have  him  in  the  boat  last  year,  though  he  never  trained 
a  bit.  Then  he's  in  the  eleven,  and  is  a  wonderful  rider, 
and  tennis-player,  and  shot." 

*  Ay,  and  he's  so  awfully  clever  with  it  all,"  joined  in 
the  man  on  the  other  side.  "  He'll  be  a  safe  first,  though 
I  don't  believe  he  reads  more  than  you  or  I.  He  can 
write  songs,  too,  as  fast  as  you  can  talk  nearly,  and  sings 
them  wonderfully." 

"  Is  he  of  our  college,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  or  he  couldn't  have  been  in  our  boat 
last  year." 

"  But  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  him  in  chapel  or  hall." 

*  No  ;  I  dare  say  not.     He  hardly  ever  goes  to  either, 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  55 

and  yet  he  manages  never  to  get  hauled  up  much,  no  one 
knows  how.  lie  never  gets  up  now  till  the  afternoon,  and 
sits  up  nearly  all  night  playing  cards  with  the  fastest  fel- 
lows, or  going  round  singing  *  glees  at  three  or  four  in  the 
morning." 

Tom  sipped  his  port  and  looked  with  great  interest 
at  the  admirable  Crichton  of  St.  Ambrose's ;  and,  after 
watching  him  a  few  minutes,  said  in  a  low  voice  to  his 
neighbor,  — 

"  How  wretched  he  looks  ;  I  never  saw  a  sadder  face." 

"  Poor  Blake !  one  can't  help  calling  him  '  poor,'  al- 
though he  himself  would  have  winced  at  it  more  than  at 
any  other  name  you  could  have  called  him.  You  might 
have  admired,  feared,  or  wondered  at  him,  and  he  would 
have  been  pleased  ;  the  object  of  his  life  was  to  raise  such 
feelings  in  his  neighbors ;  but  pity  was  the  last  which 
he  would  have  liked  to  excite." 

He  was  indeed  a  wonderfully  gifted  fellow,  full  of  all 
sorts  of  energy  and  talent,  and  power  and  tenderness  ; 
and  yet,  as  his  face  told  only  too  truly  to  any  one  who 
watched  him  when  he  was  exerting  himself  in  society, 
one  of  the  most  wretched  men  in  the  college.  He  had  a 
passion  for  success,  —  for  beating  everybody  else  in  what-  *s 
ever  he  took  in  hand,  and  that,  too,  without  seeming  to 
make  any  great  effort  himself.  The  doing  a  thing  well 
and  thoroughly  gave  him  no  satisfaction  unless  he  could 
feel  that  he  was  doing  it  better  and  more  easily  than  A, 
B,  or  C,  and  that  they  felt  and  acknowledged  this.  .He 
had  had  his  full  swing  of  success  for  two  years,  and  now 
the  Nemesis  was  coming. 

For,  although  not  an  extravagant  man,  many  of  the 
pursuits  in  which  he  had  eclipsed  all  rivals  were  far  be- 
yond the  means  of  any  but  a  rich  one,  and  Blake  was  not 


66  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

rich.  He  had  a  fair  allowance,- but  by  the  end  of  his  first 
year  was  considerably  in,  debt,  and,  at  the  time  we  are 
speaking  of,  the  whole  pack  of  Oxford  tradesmen  into 
•whose  books  he  had  got  (having  smelt  out  the  leanness  of 
his  expectations),  were  upon  him,  besieging  him  for  pay- 
ment. This  miserable  and  constant  annoyance  was  wear- 
ing his  soul  out.  This  was  the  reason  why  his  oak  was 
sported,  and  he  was  never  seen  till  the  afternoons,  and 
turned  night  into  day.  He  was  too  proud  to  come  to  any 
understanding  with  his  persecutors,  even  had  it  been  pos- 
sible ;  and  now,  at  his  sorest  need,  Ins  whole  scheme  of 
life  was  failing  him ;  his  love  of  success  was  turning  into 
ashes  in  his  mouth ;  he  felt  much  more  disgust  than  pleas- 
ure at  his  triumphs  over  other  men,  and  yet  the  habit  of 
striving  for  such  successes,  notwithstanding  its  irksome- 
ness  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted. 

Poor  Blake !  he  was  living  on  from  hand  to  mouth, 
flashing  out  with  all  his  old  brilliancy  and  power,  and 
forcing  himself  to  take  the  lead  in  whatever  company  he 
might  be  ;  but  utterly  lonely  and  depressed  when  by  him- 
self—  reading  feverishly  in  secret,  in  a  desperate  effort  to . 
retrieve  all  by  high  honors  and  a  fellowship.  As  Tom 
said  to  his  neighbor,  there  was  no  sadder  face  than  his  to 
be  seen  in  Oxford. 

And  yet  at  this  very  wine  party  he  was  the  life  of 
every  thing,  as  he  sat  up  there  between  Diogenes  —  whom 
he  kept  in  a  constant  sort  of  mild  epileptic  fit,  from  laugh- 
ter, and  wine  going  the  wrong  way  (for  whenever  Di- 
ogenes raised  his  glass  Blake  shot  him  with  some  joke) 
—  and  the  captain,  who  watched  him  with  the  most  un- 
disguised admiration.  A  singular  contrast,  the  two  men  ! 
Miller,  though  Blake  was  the  torment  of  his  life,  relaxed 
after  the  first  quarter  of  an  hour ;  and  our  hero,  by  the 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  57 

same  time,  gave  himself  credit  for  being  a  much  greater 
as>s  than  he  was,  for  having  ever  thought  Blake's  face  a 
sad  one. 

When  the  room  was  quite  full,  and  enough  wine  had 
been  drunk  to  open  the  hearts  of  the  guests,  Diogenes 
rose  on  a  signal  from  Miller,  and  opened  the  budget. 
The  financial  statement  was  a  satisfactory  one ;  the  club 
was  almost  free  of  debt ;  and,  comparing  their  positions 
with  that  of  other  colleges,  Diogenes  advised  that  they 
might  fairly  burden  themselves  a  little  more,  and  then,  if 
they  would  stand  a  whip  of  five  shillings  a  man,  they 
might  have  a  new  boat,  which  he  believed  they  all  would 
agree  had  become  necessary.  Miller  supported  the  new 
boat  in  a  pungent  little  speech ;  and  the  captain,  when 
appealed  to,  nodded  and  said  he  thought  they  must  have 
one.  So  the  small  supplies  and  the  large  addition  to  the 
club  debt  were  voted  unanimously,  and  the  captain,  Mil- 
ler, and  Blake,  who  had  many  notions  as  to  the  flooring 
lines  and  keel  of  a  racing  boat,  were  appointed  to  order 
and  superintend  the  building. 

Soon  afterwards,  coffee  came  in  and  cigars  were  lighted ; 
a  large  section  of  the  party  went  off  to  play  pool,  others 
to  stroll  about  the  streets,  others  to  whist ;  a  few,  let  us 
hope,  to  their  own  rooms  to  read  ;  but  these  latter  were  a 
sadly  small  minority  even  in  the  quietest  of  ,St.  Ambrose 
parties. 

Tom,  who  was  fascinated  by  the  heroes  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  sat  steadily  on,  sidling. up  towards  them  as  the 
intermediate  places  became  vacant,  and  at  last  attained 
the  next  chair  but  one  to  the  captain,  where  for  the  time 
he  sat  in  perfect  bliss.  Blake  and  Miller  were  telling 
boating  stories  of  the  Henley  and  Thames  regattas,  the  lat- 
ter of  which  had  lately  been  started  with  great  eclat ;  and 


58  TOM    DROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

from  these  great  yearly  events,  and  the  deeds  of  proAvesa 
done  thereat,  the  talk  came  gradually  round  to  the  next 
races. 

"Now,  captain,"  said  Miller  suddenly,  "have  you 
thought  yet  whom  we  are  to  try  in  the  crew  this  year  ?" 

"  No,  'pon  my  honor  I  haven't,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  I'm 
reading,  and  have  no  time  to  spaie.  Besides,  after  all, 
there's  lots  of  time  to  think  about  it.  Here,  we're  only 
half  through  Lent  term,  and  the  races  don't  begin  till  the 
end  of  Easter  term." 

*  It  wont  do,"  said  Miller ;  "  we  must  get  the  crew  to- 
gether this  term." 

'•  Well,  you  and  Smith  put  your  heads  together  and 
manage  it,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  will  go  down  any  day, 
and  as  often  as  you  like,  at  two  o'clock." 

"  Let's  see,"  said  Miller  to  Smith,  "  how  many  of  the 
old  crew  have  we  left  ?" 

"  Five,  counting  Blake,"  answered  Diogenes. 

"  Counting  me !  well,  that's  cool,"  laughed  Blake ; 
"  you  old  tub-haunting  flute-player,  why  am  I  not  to  be 
counted  ?  " 

"  You  never  will  train,  you  see,"  said  Diogenes. 

"  Smith  is  quite  right,"  said  Miller ;  "  there's  no  count- 
ing on  you,  Blake.  Now  be  a  good  fellow  and  promise  to 
be  regular  this  year." 

"  I'll  promise  to  do  my  work  in  a  race,  which  is  more 
than  some  of  your  best-trained  men  will  do,"  said  Blake, 
rather  piqued.  0 

"  Well,  you  know  what  I  think  on  the  subject,"  said 
Miller ;  "  but  whom  have  we  got  for  the  other  thifes 
places  ?  " 

"  There's  Drysdale  would  do,"  said  Diogenes ;  "  I 
heard  he  was  a  capital  oar  at  Eton ;  and  so,  though  I 
don't  know  him,  I  managed  to  get  him  once  down  last 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  59 

term.  He  would  do  famously  for  No.  2,  or  No.  3,  if  he 
would  pull." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will,  Blake  ?  You  know  him,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Miller. 

"  Yes,  I  know  him  well  enough,"  said  Blake ;  and, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  added,  "  I  don't  think  you  will 
get  him  to  train  much." 

"  Well,  we  must  try,"  said  Miller.  "  No\vr  who  else  is 
there?" 

Smith  went  through  with  four  or  five  names,  at  each  of 
which  Miller  shook  his  head. 

"  Any  promising  freshmen  ?  "  said  he,  at  last. 

"  None  better  than  Brown  here,"  said  Smith  ;  "  I  think 
he'll  do  well,  if  he  will  only  work,  and  stand  being 
coached." 

"  Have  you  ever  pulled  much  ?  "  said  Miller. 

"No,"  said  Tom,  "never  till  this  last  month  —  since 
I've*  been  up  here." 

"All  the  better,"  said  Miller;  "now,  captain,  you 
hear ;  Ave  may  probably  have  to  go  in  with  three  new 
hands ;  they  must  get  into  your  stroke  this  term,  or  we 
shall  be  nowhere." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  captain ;  "  I'll  give  from  two  till 
five  any  days  you  like." 

"  And  now  let's  go  and  have  one  pool,"  said  Blake, 
getting  up.  "  Come,  captain,  just  one  little  pool  after  ali 
this  business." 

Diogenes  insisted  on  staying  to  play  his  flute  ;  Miller 
was  engaged ;  but  the  captain,  with  a  little  coaxing,  was 
led  away  by  Blake,  and  good-naturedly  asked  Tom  to  ac- 
company them,  when  he  saw  that  he  was  looking  as  if  he 
would  like  it.  So  the  three  went  off  to  the  billiard- 
rooms  ;  Tom  in  such  spirits  at  the  chance  of  his  being 
tried  in  the  crew,  that  he  hardly  noticed  the  exceedingly 


60  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

bad  exchange  which  he  had  involuntarily  made  of  his  new 
cap  and  gown  for  a  third-year  cap  with  the  board  broken 
into  several  pieces,  and  a  fusty  old  gown  which  had  been 
about  college  probably  for  ten  generations.  I  wonder 
whether  undergraduate  morality  has  improved  in  this 
matter  of  stealing  caps  and  gowns  as  much  as  I  believe  it 
has  in  other  matters  since  my  time. 

They  found  the  St.  Ambrose  pool-room  full  of  the  fast 
set ;  and  Tom  enjoyed  his  game  much,  though  his  three 
lives  were  soon  disposed  of.  The  captain  and  Blake  were 
the  last  lives  on  the  board,  and  divided  the  pool  at  Blake's 
suggestion.  He  had  scarcely  the  nerve  for  playing  out 
a  single-handed  match  with  such  an  iron-nerved,  steady 
piece  of  humanity  as  the  captain,  though  he  was  the  more 
brilliant  player  of  the  two.  The  party  then  broke  up, 
and  Tom  returned  to  his  rooms ;  and,  when  he  was  by 
himself  again,  his  thoughts  recurred  to  Hardy.  How 
odd,  he  thought,  that  they  never  mentioned  him  for  the 
boat !  Could  he  have  done  any  thing  to  be  ashamed  of? 
How  was  it  that  nobody  seemed  to  know  him,  and  he  to 
know  nobody? 

Most  readers,  I  doubt  not,  will  think  our  hero  very 

y^reen  for  being  puzzled  at  so  simple  a  matter ;  and,  no 
doubt,  the  steps  in  the  social  scale  in  England  are  very 
clearly  marked  out,  and  we  all  come  to  the  appreciation 
of  the  gradations  sooner  or  later.  But  our  hero's  pr^r i- 
ous  education  must  be  taken  into  consideration.  He  had 
not  been  instructed  at  home  to  worship  mere  conven- 
tional distinctions  of  rank  or  wealth,  and  had  gone  to  a 
school  which  was  not  frequented  by  persons  of  rank,  and 
where  no  one  knew  whether  a  boy  was  heir  to  a  princi- 
pality or  would  have  to  fight  his  own  way  in  the  world, 
So  he  was  rather  taken  by  surprise  at  what  he  found  to 
be  the  state  of  things  at  St.  Ambrose's,  and  didn't  easily 
realize  it> 


CHAPTER  V. 


HARDY,    THE    SERVITOR. 


It  was  net  long  before  Tom  had  effected  his  object  in 
put.  That  is  to  say,  he  had  caught  Hardy  several  times 
in  the  quadrangle  coming  out  of  the  Lecture,  Hall,  or 
Chapel,  and  had  fastened  himself  upon  him ;  often  walk- 
ing with  him  even  up  to  the  door  of  his  rooms.  But 
there  matters  ended.  Hardy  was  very  civil  and  gentle- 
manly; he  even  seemed  pleased  with  the  volunteered 
companionship ;  but  there  was  undoubtedly  a  coolness 
about  him  which  Tom  could  not  make  out.  But,  as  he  only 
liked  Hardy  more,  the  more  he  saw  of  him,  he  very  soon 
made  up  his  mind  to  break  ground  himself,  and  to  make 
a  dash  at  any  rate  for  something  more  than  a  mere  speak- 
ing acquaintance. 

One  evening  he  had  as  usual  walked  .from  hall  with 
Hardy  up  to  his  door,  where  they  stopped  a  moment  talk- 
ing ;  and  then  Hardy,  half  opening  the  door,  said,  "  Well, 
good-night ;  perhaps  we  shall  meet  on  the  river  to-mor- 
row," and  was  going  in,  when  Tom,  looking  him  in  the 
f?.ce,  blurted  out,  "I  say,  Hardy,  I  wish  you'd  let  me 
eome  in  and  sit  with  you  a  bit." 

"  I  never  ask  a  man  of  our  college  into  my  rooms," 
answered  the  other,  "  but  come  in  by  all  means  if  you 
like ;"  and  so  they  entered. 

The  room  was  the  worst,  both  in  situation  and  furni- 
ture, which  Tom  had  yet  seen.     It   was  on  the  ground 
floor,  with  only  one  window,  which  looked  out  into  a  back 
6 


62  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

yard,  where  were  the  offices  of  the  college.  All  day,  anJ 
up  to  nine  o'clock  at  night,  the  yard  and  offices  were  filled 
with  scouts  ;  boys  cleaning  boots  and  knives ;  bed-makers 
emptying  slops  and  tattling  scandal ;  scullions  peeling 
potatoes  and  listening ;  and  the  butchers'  and  green-gro- 
cers' men  who  supplied  the  college,  and  loitered  about 
to  gossip  and  get  a  taste  of  the  college  —  all  before  going 
about  their  business.  The  room  was  large,  but  low  and 
close,  and  the  floor  uneven.  The  furniture  did  not  add 
to  the  chssrfulncss  of  the  apartment.  It  consisted  of  one 
large  table  in  the  middle,  covered  with  an  old  chequered 
table-cloth,  and  an  Oxford  table  near  the  window,  on 
which  lay  half  a  dozen  books  with  writing  materials.  A 
couple  of  plain  Windsor  chairs  occupied  the  two  sides  of 
the  fireplace,  and  half  a  dozen  common  wrooden  chairs 
stood  against  the  opposite  wall,  three  on  each  side  of  a 
pretty-well-filled  bookcase  ;  while  an  old  rickety  sofa, 
covered  with  soiled  chintz,  leaned  against  the  wall  which 
fronted  the  window,  as  if  to  rest  its  lame  leg.  The  carpet 
and  rug  were  dingy,  and  decidedly  the  worse  for  wear ; 
and  the  college  had  evidently  neglected  to  paper  the  room 
or  whitewash  the  ceiling  for  several  generations.  On  the 
mantelpiece  reposed  a  few  long  clay  pipes  and  a  brown 
earthenware  receptacle  for  tobacco,  together  with  a  ja- 
panned tin  case,  shaped  like  a  figure  of  eight,  the  use  of 
wrhich  puzzled  Tom  exceedingly.  One  modestly  framed 
drawing  of  a  ten-gun  brig  hung  above,  and  at  the  side  of 
the  fireplace  a  sword  and  belt.  All  this  Tom  had  time  to 
remark  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  which  was  burning  brightly 
while  his  host  produced  a  couple  of  brass  candlesticks  from 
his  cupboard  and  lighted  up,  and  drew  the  curtain  before 
his  window.  Then  Tom  instinctively  left  off  taking  notes, 
for  fear  of  hurting  the  other's  feelings  (just  as  he  wrould 
have  gone  on   doing  so,  and  making  remarks  on  every 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  63 

thing,  had  the  rooms  been  models  of  taste  and  comfort), 
and  throwing  his  cap  and  gown  on  the  sofa,  sat  down  on 
one  of  the  Windsor  chairs. 

"  What  a  jolly  chair,"  said  he ;  "  where  do  you  get 
them  ?     I  should  like  to  buy  one." 

"  Yes,  they're  comfortable  enough,"  said  Hardy,  "  but 
the  reason  I  have  them  is  that  they're  the  cheapest  arm- 
chairs one  can  get ;  I  like  an  arm-chair,  and  can't  afford 
to  have  any  other  than  these." 

Tom  dropped  the  subject  of  the  chairs  at  once,  follow- 
ing his  instinct  again,  which  sad  to  say,  was  already  teach- 
ing him  that  poverty  is  a  disgrace  to  a  Briton,  and  that, 
until  you  know  a  man  thoroughly,  you  must  always  seem 
to  assume  that  he  is  the  owner  of  unlimited  ready  money. 
Somehow  or  another  he  began  to  feel  embarrassed,  and 
couldn't  think  of  any  thing  to  say,  as  his  host  took  down 
the  pipes  and  tobacco  from  the  mantelpiece,  and  placed 
them  on  the  table.  However,  any  thing  was  better  than 
silence  ;  so  he  began  again. 

"  Very  good-sized  rooms  yours  seem,"  said  he  taking  up 
a  pipe  mechanically. 

"  Big  enough,  for  the  matter  of  that,"  answered  the 
other,  "  but  very  dark  and  noisy  in  the  daytime." 

u  So  I  should  think,"  said  Tom ;  "  do  you  know,  I'd 
sooner  now  have  my  freshman's  rooms  up  in  the  garrets. 
I  wonder  you  don't  change." 

"  I  get  these  for  nothing,"  said  his  host,  putting  his 
long  clay  to  the  candle,  and  puffing  out  volumes  of  smoke. 
Tom  was  stumped  again,  and  felt  more  and  more  unequal 
to  the  situation — so  began  filling  his  pipe  in  silence, 
The  first  whiff  made  him  cough,  as  he  wasn't  used  to  the 
fragrant  weed  in  this  shape. 

u  I'm  afraid  you  don't  smoke  tobacco,"  said  his  host 


64  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

from  behind  his  own  cloud ;  "  shall  I  go  out  and  fetch  you 
a  cigar?     I  don't  smoke  them  myself;  I  can't  afford  it." 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Tom,  blushing  for  shame,  as  if 
he  had  come  there  only  to  insult  his  host,  and  wishing 
himself  heartily  out  of  it ;  "  I've  got  my  case  here  ;  and 
the  met  is  I  will  smoke  a  cigar  if  you'll  allow  me,  for  I'm 
not  up  to  pipes  yet.  I  wish  you'd  take  some,"  he  went 
on,  emptying  his  cigars  on  the  table. 

"  Thank'ee,"  replied  his  host,  "  I  prefer  a  pipe.  And 
now  what  will  you  have  to  drink  ?  I  don't  keep  wine,  but 
I  can  get  a  bottle  of  any  thing  you  like  from  the  common 
rocm.  That's  one  of  our  privileges," —  he  gave  a  grim 
chuckle  as  he  emphasized  the  word  "  our." 

"  "Who  on  earth  are  we  ?  "  thought  Tom ;  "  servitors,  I 
suppose,"  for  he  knew  already  that  undergraduates  in  gen- 
eral could  not  get  wine  from  the  college  cellars. 

"  I  don't  care  a  straw  about  wine,"  said  he,  feeling  very 
hot  about  the  ears :  u  a  glass  of  beer,  or  any  thing  you 
have  here  —  or  tea." 

"  Well,  I  can  give  you  a  pretty  good  glass  of  whiskey," 
said  his  host,  going  to  the  cupboard,  and  producing  a  black 
bottle,  two  tumblers  of  different  sizes,  some  little  wooden 
toddy  ladles,  and  sugar  in  an  old  cracked  glass. 

Tom  vowed  that,  if  there  was  one  thing  in  the  world 
he  liked  more  than  another,  it  was  whiskey ;  and  began 
measuring  out  the  liquor  carefully  into  his  tumbler,  and 
rolling  it  round  between  his  eye  and  the  candle,  and  smell- 
ing it,  to  show  what  a  treat  it  was  to  him ;  while  his  host 
put  the  kettle  on  the  fire,  to  ascertain  that  it  was  quite 
boiling,  and  then,  as  it  spluttered  and  fizzed,  filled  up  the 
two  tumblers,  and  restored  it  to  its  place  on  the  hob. 

Tom  swallowed  some  of  the  mixture,  which  nearly 
made  him  cough  again  —  for,  though  it  was  very  good,  it 
was  also  very  potent ;  however,  by  an  effort  he  managed 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  65 

to  swallow  his  cough ;  he  would  about  as  soon  have  lot  a 
little  finger  as  let  it  out.  Then,  to  his  great  relief,  his 
ho?t  took  the  pipe  from  his  lips  and  inquired,  "  How  do 
you  like  Oxford?" 

"  I  hardly  know  yet,"  said  Tom  ;  "  the  first  few  days  I 
was  delighted  with  going  about  and  seeing  the  buildings, 
and  finding  out  who  had  lived  in  each  of  the  old  colleges, 
and  pottering  about  in  the  Bodleian,  and  fancying  I  should 
like  to  be  a  great  scholar.  Then  I  met  several  old 
school-fellows  going  about,  who  are  up  at  other  colleges, 
and  went  to  their  rooms  and  talked  over  old  times.  But 
none  of  my  very  intimate  friends  are  up  yet,  and  unless 
you  care  very  much  about  a  man  already,  you  don't  seem 
to  be  likely  to  get  intimate  with  him  up  here,  unless  he  is 
.it  your  own  college." 

He  paused  as  if  expecting  an  answer. 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  said  Hardy ;  "  but  I  never  was  at  a 
public  school,  unluckily,  and  so  am  no  judge." 

"  Well,  then,  as  to  the  college  life,"  went  on  Tom,  u  it's 
all  very  well  as  far  as  it  goes.  There's  plenty  of  liberty, 
and  good  food.  And  the  men  seem  nice  fellows  —  many 
of  them  at  least,  as  far  as  I  can  judge.  But  I  can't  say 
that  I  like  it  as  much  as  I  liked  our  school  life." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Hardy.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  hardly  know,"  said  Tom,  laughing ;  "  I  don't 
seem  as  if  I  had  any  thing  to  do  here  ;  that's  one  reason, 
I  think.  And  then,  you  see,  at  Rugby  I  was  rather  a  great 
man.  There  one  had  a  share  in  the  ruling  of  three  hun-  )C 
dred  boys,  and  a  good  deal  of  responsibility.  But  here 
one  has  only  just  to  take  care  of  one's  self,  and  keep  out  of 
scrapes  ;  and  that's  what  I  never  could  do.  What  do  you 
think  a  fellow  ought  to  do  now  up  here  ?  " 

"  Oh !   I  don't  see  much  difficulty  in  that,"  said  his  host, 
smiling  j  "  get  up  your  lectures  well,  to  begin  with." 
6* 


66  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

u  B-it  my  lectures  are  a  farce,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I've  done 
all  the  books  over  and  over  again.  They  don't  take  me 
an  hour  a  day  to  get  up." 

"  Well,  then,  set  to  work  reading  something  regularly 
—  reading  for  your  degree,  for  instance." 

"Oh,  hang  it!  I  can't  look  so  far  forward  as  that;  I 
sha'n't  be  going  up  for  three  years." 

"  You  can't  begin  too  early.  You  might  go  and  talk  to 
your  college-tutor  about  it." 

"  So  I  did,"  said  Tom ;  "  at  least  I  meant  to  do  it.  For 
he  asked  me  and  two  other  freshmen  to  breakfast  the  other 
morning,  and  I  was  going  to  open  out  to  him.  But  when 
I  got  there  I  was  quite  shut  up.  He  never  looked  one  of 
us  in  the  face,  and  talked  in  set  sentences,  and  was  cold, 
and  formal,  and  condescending.  The  only  bit  of  advice  he 
gave  us  was  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  boating  —  just  the 
one  thing  which  I  feel  a  real  interest  in.  I  couldn't  get 
out  a  word  of  what  I  wanted  to  say." 

"  It  is  unlucky,  certainly,  that  our  present  tutors  take 
so  little  interest  in  anything  which  the  men  care  about. 
But  it  is  more  from  shyness  than  any  thing  else,  that  man- 
ner which  you  noticed.  You  may  be  sure  that  he  was 
more  wretched  and  embarrassed  than  any  of  you." 

"  Well,  but  now  I  should  really  like  to  know  what  you 
did  yourself,"  said  Tom ;  "  you  are  the  only  man  of  much 
older  standing  than  myself  whom  I  know  at  all  yet  —  I 
mean  I  don't  know  anybody  else  well  enough  to  talk 
about  this  sort  of  thing  to  them.  What  did  you  do  now, 
besides  learning  to  pull,  in  your  first  year  ?  " 

"  I  had  learnt  to  pull  before  I  came  up  here,"  said 
TTp.rdy.  "  I  really  hardly  remember  what  I  did  besides 
read.  You  see  I  came  up  with  a  definite  purpose  of 
.reading.  My  father  was  very  anxious  that  I  should  be  a 
gcod  scholar.     Then  my  position  in  the  college  and  my 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  67 

poverty  naturally  kept  me  out  of  many  things  which  ether 
men  do." 

Tom  flushed  again  at  the  ugly  word,  but  not  so  much 
as  at  first.  Hardy  couldn't  mind  the  subject,  or  he  would 
never  be  forcing  it  up  at  every  turn,  he  thought. 

"  You  wouldn't  think  it,"  he  began  again,  harping  on 
the  same  string,  "  but  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  I  miss 
the  sort  of  responsibility  I  was  talking  to  you  about.  I 
have  no  doubt  I  shall  get  the  vacuum  filled  up  before  long, 
but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  how  yet." 

u  You  will  be  a  very  lucky  fellow  if  you  don't  find  it 
quite  as  much  as  you  can  do  to  keep  yourself  in  order  up 
here.  It  is  about  the  toughest  part  of  a  man's  life,  I  do 
believe,  the  time  he  has  to  spend  here.  My  university 
life  has  been  so  different  altogether  from  what  yours  will 
be,  that  my  experience  isn't  likely  to  benefit  you." 

"  I  wish  you  would  try  me,  though,"  said  Tom  ;  "  you 
don't  know  what  a  teachable  sort  of  fellow  I  am,  if  any- 
body will  take  me  the  right  way.  You  taught  me  to  scull, 
you  know  ;  or  at  least  put  me  in  the  way  to  learn.  But 
sculling,  and  rowing,  and  cricket,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
with  such  reading  as  I  am  likely  to  do,  wont  be  enough. 
I  feel  sure  of  that  already." 

"  I  don't  think  it  will,"  said  Hardy.  "  No  amount  of 
physical  or  mental  work  will  fill  the  vacuum  you  were 
talking  of  just  now.  It  is  the  empty  house  swept  and 
garnished,  which  the  boy  might  have  had  glimpses  of,. but 
the  man  finds  yawning  within  him,  and  which  must  be 
filled  somehow.  It's  a  pretty  good  three  years'  work  to 
learn  how  to  keep  the  devils  out  of  it,  more  or  less,  by  the 
time  you  take  your  degree.     At  least  I  have  found  it  so." 

Hardy  rose  and  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  his 
room.  He  was  astonished  at  finding  himself  talking  so 
unreservedly  to  one  of  whom  he  knew  so  little,  and  half 


68  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

wished  the  words  recalled.  He  lived  much  alone,  anil 
thought  himself  morbid  and  too  self-conscious;  why  should 
he  be  filling  a  youngster's  head  with  puzzles  ?  How  did 
hs  know  that  they  were  thinking  of  the  same  thing? 

But  the  spoken  word  cannot  be  recalled;  it  must  go  on 
its  way  for  good  or  evil ;  and  this  one  set  the  hearer  star- 
ing into  the  ashes,  and  putting  many  things  together  in  his 
head. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  he  broke  silence,  but  at  last 
he  gathered  up  his  thoughts,  and  said,  "  Well,  I  hope  I 
sha'n't  shirk  when  the  time  comes.  You  don't  think  a 
fellow  need  shut  himself  up  though  ?  I'm  sure  I  shouldn't 
be  any  the  better  for  that." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  you  would,"  said  Hardy. 

"  Because,  you  see,"  Tom  went  on  waxing  bolder  and 
more  confidential,  "  if  I  were  to  take  to  moping  by  my- 
self, I  shouldn't  read  as  you  or  any  sensible  fellow  would 
do ;  I  know  that  well  enough.  I  should  just  begin,  sitting 
with  my  legs  up  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  looking  into  my 
cwn  inside.  I  see  you  are  laughing,  but  you  know  what 
[\  mean ;  don't  you  now  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  staring  into  the  vacuum  you  were  talking  of 
just  now  ;  it  all  comes  back  to  that,"  said  Hardy. 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  does,"  said  Tom ;  "  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  does  a  fellow  a  bit  of  good  to  be  thinking  about 
himself  and  his  own  doings." 

"  Only  he  can't  help  himself,"  said  Hardy.  "  Let  him 
throw  himself,  as  he  will,  into  all  that  is  going  on  up  here, 
arter  all  lie  must  be  alone  for  a  great  part  of  his  time  — - 
all  night  at  any  rate  —  and  when  he  gets  his  oak  sported, 
it's  all  up  with  him.  He  must  be  looking  more  or  less  in- 
to his  own  inside,  as  you  call  it." 

"  Then  "I  hope  he  wont  find  it  as  ugly  a  business  as  J 
do.     If  he  does,  I'm  sure  he  can't  be  worse  employed." 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  69 

"  1  don't  know  that,"  said  Hardy  ;  "  lie  can't  learn  any 
thing  worth  learning  in  any  other  way." 

"  Oh,  I  like  that !  "  said  Tom  ;  "  it's  worth  learning  how 
to  play  tennis,  and  how  to  speak  the  truth.  You  can't 
learn  either  by  thinking  about  yourself  ever  so  much." 

"  You  must  know  the  truth  before  you  can  speak  it," 
said  Hardy. 

"  So  you  always  do  in  plenty  of  time."" 

"  How  ?  "  said  Hardy. 

"  Oh!  I  don't  know,"  said  Tom  ;  "  by  a  sort  of  instincv, 
I  suppose.  I  never,  in  my  life,  felt  any  doubt  about  what 
I  ought  to  say  or  do  ;  did  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  yours  is  a  good,  comfortable,  working  belief,  at 
any  rate,"  said  Hardy,  smiling  ;  "  and  I  should  advise  you 
to  hold  on  to  it  as  long  as  you  can." 

"  But  you  don't  think  I  can  for  very  long,  eh?" 

"  No ;  but  men  are  very  different.  There's  no  saying. 
If  you  were  going  to  get  out  of  the  self-dissecting  business 
altogether  though,  why  should  you  have  brought  the  sub- 
ject up  at  all  to-night  ?  It  looks  awkward  for  you ;  doesn't 
it?" 

Tom  began  to  feel  rather  forlorn  at  this  suggestion,  and 
probably  betrayed  it  in  his  face,  for  Hardy  changed  Ihe 
subject  suddenly. 

"  How  do  you  get  on  in  the  boat  ?  I  saw  you  going 
down  to-day,  and  thought  the  time  much  better." 

Tom  felt  greatly  relieved,  as  he  was  beginning  to  find 
himself  in  rather  deep  water :  so  he  rushed  into  boating 
with  great  zest,  and  the  two  chatted  on  very  pleasantly  on 
that  and  other  like  matters,  of  little  interest  to  the  gen- 
eral reader. 

The  college  clock  struck  during  a  pause  in  their  talk, 
and  Tom  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Eight  o'clock,  I  declare,"  he  said ;  "  why  I  must  have 


70  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

been  here  more  than  two  hours.  I'm  afraid,  now,  you 
have  been  wanting  to  work,  and  I  have  kept  you  from  it 
with  my  talk." 

"  No,  it's  Saturday  night.  Besides,  I  don't  get  much 
society  that  I  care  about,  and  so  I  enjoy  it  all  the  more. 
"Wont  you  stop  and  have  some  tea  ?  " 

Tom  gladly  consented,  and  his  host  produced  a  some- 
what dilapidated  set  of  crockery,  and  proceeded  to  brew 
the  drink  least  appreciated  at  St.  Ambrose's.  Tom 
watched  him  in  silence,  much  exercised  in  his  mind  as  to 
what  manner  of  man  he  had  fallen  upon;  very  much 
astonished  at  himself  for  having  opened  out  so  freely,  and 
feeling  a  strange  desire  to  know  more  of  Hardy,  not 
unmixed  with  a  sort  of  nervousness  as  to  how  he  was  to 
accomplish  it. 

When  Hardy  sat  down  again  and  began  pouring  out 
th3  tor.,  curiosity  overcame,  and  he  opened  with  — 

"  So  you  read  most  nights  after  hall  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  two  or  three  hours ;  longer,  when  I  am  in  a 
good  humor." 

"What,  all  by  yourself?" 

"  Generally ;  but  once  or  twice  a  week  Grant  comes  in 
to  compare  notes.     Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  No ;  at  least  he  hasn't  called  on  me.  I  have  just 
sp«Aer>  to  him." 

"  He  is  a  very  quiet  fellow,  and  I  dare  say  doesn't  call 
on  any  man  unless  he  knew  something  of  him  before." 

"Don't  you?" 

"  Never,"  said  Hardy,  shortly ;  and  added  after  a  short 
p^use,  "  very  few  men  would  thank  me  if  I  did ;  most 
would  think  it  impertinent,  and  I'm  too  proud  to  risk 

too." 

Tom  was  on  the  point  of  asking  why ;  but  the  uncom- 
fortable feeling  he  had  nearly  lost  came  back  on  him. 


TOM   &3.01TS   AT    OXFORD.  71 

"  I  suppose  one  very  soon  gets  tired  of  the  wine-and- 
t upper-party  life,  though  I  own  I  find  it  pleasant  enough 
now." 

"  I  have  never  been  tried,"  said  Hardy ;  "  servitors  are 
not  troubled  with  that  kind  of  thing.  If  they  were,  I 
wouldn't  go  unless  I  could  return  them,  and  that  I  can't 
afford." 

"  There  he  goes  again,"  thought  Tom ;  "  why  will  he 
be  throwing  that  old  story  in  my  face  over  and  over 
again  ?  he  can't  think  I  care  about  his  poverty ;  I  wont 
change  the  subject  this  time,  at  any  rate."  And  so  he 
said :  — 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  makes  any  real  differ- 
ence to  a  man  in  society  up  here,  whether  he  is  poor  or 
rich  ;  I  mean,  of  course,  if  he  is  a  gentleman  and  a  good 
fellow?" 

"  Yes,  it  does  —  the  very  greatest  possible.  But  don't 
take  my  word  for  it.  Keep  your  eyes  open  and  judge  for 
yourself;  I  dare  say  I'm  prejudiced  on  the  subject." 

"  Well,  I  shan't  believe  it  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Tom  ; 
"  you  know  you  said  just  now  that  you  never  called  on 
any  one.  Perhaps  you  don't  give  men  a  fair  charce. 
They  might  be  glad  to  know  you  if  you  would  let  them, 
and  may  think  it's  your  fault  that  they  don't." 

"  Very  possibly,"  said  Hardy ;  "  I  tell  you  not  to  take 
my  word  for  it." 

"  It  upsets  all  one's  ideas  so,"  went  on  Tom ;  "  why,  Ox- 
ford ought  to  be  the  place  in  England  where  money  should 
count  for  nothing.  Surely,  now,  such  a  man  as  Jervis, 
our  captain,  has  more  influence  than  all  the  rich  men  in 
the  college  put  together,  and  is  more  looked  up  to  ?  " 

"  He's  one  of  a  thousand,"  said  Hardy  ;  "  handsome, 
strong,  good-tempered,  clever,  and  up  to  every  thing. 
Besides,  he  isn't  a  poor  man  ;  and  mind,  I  don't  say  that, 


72  TOM    TEOTTIT   AT    OXFOKD. 

if  he  were,  he  wouldn't  b*  where  he  is.     I  am  speaking 
of  the  rule,  and  not  of  the  exceptions." 

Here  Hardy's  scout  came  in  to  say  that  the  dean 
wanted  to  speak  to  him.  So  he  put  on  his  cap  and  gown, 
and  Tom  rose  also. 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry  to  turn  you  out,"  said  Hardy,  "  and 
I'm  afraid  I've  been  very  surly  and  made  jou  very  un- 
comfortable.    You  wont  come  back  again  in  a  hurry." 

"  Indeed  I  will  though,  if  you  will  let  me,"  said  Tom ; 
"  I  have  enjoyed  my  evening  immensely." 

"  Then  come  whenever  you  like,"  said  Hardy. 

"  But  I  am  afraid  of  interfering  with  your  reading," 
said  Tom. 

"  Oh !  you  needn't  mind  that ;  I  have  plenty  of  time  on 
my  hands ;  besides,  one  can't  read  all  night,  and  from  eight 
to  ten  you'll  find  me  generally  idle." 

"  Then  you'll  see  me  often  enough.  But  promise  now 
to  turn  me  out  whenever  I  am  in  the  way." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Hardy,  laughing ;  and  so  they  parted 
for  the  time. 

Some  twenty  minutes  afterwards  Hardy  returned  to 
his  room  after  hie  interview  with  the  dean,  who  merely 
wanted  to  spe?Ak  to  hiis  about  some  matter  of  college  busi- 
ness. He  flung  his  cap  and  gown  on  to  the  sofa,  and  be- 
gan to  walk  up  and  down  Lis  room,  at  first  hurriedly,  but 
soon  with  his  usual  regular  tramp.  However  expressive 
a  man's  face  may  be,  and  however  well  you  may  know  it, 
it  is  simply  nonsense  to  say  that  you  can  tell  what  he  is 
thinking  about  by  looking  at  it,  as  many  of  us  are  apt  t 
boast.  Still  more  absurd  would  it  be  to  expect  reader 
to  know  what  Hardy  is-  thinking  about,  when  they  have 
never  had  the  advantage  of  ceeing  his  face  even  in  a  pho- 
tograph. "Wherefore,  it  77culd  seem  that  the  author  is 
bound  on  such  occasions  t3  put  hie  readers  on  equal  van- 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  DltTSDALE  AND  BLAKE  WENT  FISHING. 

"  Drysdale,  what's  a  servitor  ?  " 

"  How  the  deuce  should  I  know  ?  " 

This  short  and  pithy  dialogue  took  place  in  Drysdale's 
rooms  one  evening  soon  after  the  conversation  recorded 
in  the  last  chapter.  He  and  Tom  were  sitting  alone  there, 
for  a  wonder,  and  so  the  latter  seized  the  occasion  to  pro- 
pound this  question,  which  he  had  had  on  his  mind  for 
some  time.  He  was  scarcely  satisfied  with  the  above 
rejoinder,  but  while  he  was  thinking  how  to  come  at  the 
subject  by  another  road,  Drysdale  opened  a  morocco  fly- 
book,  and  poured  its  contents  on  the  table,  which  was 
already  covered  with  flies  of  all  sorts  and  patterns,  hanks 
of  gut,  delicate  made-up  casts,  reels,  minnows,  and  tackle 
enough  to  kill  all  the  fish  in  the  four  neighboring  coun- 
ties. Tom  began  turning  them  over  and  scrutinizing  the 
dressings  of  the  flies. 

"  It  has  been  so  mild,  the  fish  must  be  in  season,  don't 
you  think  ?  Besides,  if  they're  not,  it's  a  jolly  drive  to 
Fairford,  at  any  rate.  You've  never  been  behind  my 
team,  Brown.     You'd  better  come,  now,  to-morrow." 

"  I  can't  cut  my  two  lectures." 

"  Bother  your  lectures  !     Put  on  an  ssger,  then." 

"  No !  that  doesn't  suit  my  book,  you  know." 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  should  be  so  cursedly  particular. 
Well,  if  you  wont,  you  wont ;  I  know  that  well  enough. 
But  what  cast  should  you  fish  with  to-morrow?" 


76  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

a  How  many  flies  do  you  use  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  two,  sometimes  three." 

"  Two's  enough,  I  think ;  all  depends  on  the  weather ; 
but,  if  it's  at  all  like  to-day,  you  can't  do  better,  I  should 
think,  than  the  old  March  brown  and  a  palmer  to  begin 
with.  .  Then,  for  change,  this  hare's  ear,  and  an  alder  fly, 
perhaps;  or,  —  let  me  see,"  and  he  began  searching  the 
glittering  heap  to  select  a  color  to  go  with  the  dull  hare's  ear 

"  Isn't  it  early  for  the  alder?"  said  Drysdale. 

"  Rather,  perhaps  ;  but  they  can't  resist  it." 

"  These  bang-tailed  little  sinners  any  good  ?  "  said  Drys« 
dale,  throwing  some  cock-a-bondies  across  the  table. 

"  Yes ;  I  never  like  to  be  without  them,  and  a  governor 
or  two.  Here,  this  is  a  well-tied  lot,"  said  Tom,  picking 
out  half  a  dozen.  "  You  never  know  when  you  may  not 
kill  with  either  of  them.  But  I  don't  know  the  Fairford 
water  ;  so  my  opinion  isn't  worth  much." 

More  talk  of  a  like  kind  went  on,  not  interesting  to  the 
general  reader.  And  you,  O  reader !  who  are  a  fisherman, 
to  whom  my  heart  warms  as  I  pen  these  lines,  do  you  not 
know  it  all  as  well  as  I?  The  delight  of  sitting  handling 
tackle  and  talking  fishing  talk,  though  you  mayn't  get 
three  days'  fishing  a  year ;  the  difficulty  you  have  in  ad- 
vising any  brother  of  the  craft  to  leave  a  single  well-tied 
taking-looking  fly  out  of  his  book,  though  you  know,  from 
experience,  that  it  Would  be  probably  better  for  him  if  he 
had  only  some  four  or  five  flies  in  the  world.  Well,  after 
thirty,  or  thereabouts,  we  must  all,  I  suppose,  lay  our  ac- 
count to  enjoying  such  things  mostly  in  talk.  It  is  a  real 
pleasure,  though,  to  go  on  talking,  and  so  enjoying  by 
anticipation  splendid  days  of  salmon-fishing  and  hunting, 
though  they  never  really  arrive. 

When  the  conversation  flagged,  Tom  returned  to  the 
old  topic. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  77 

i 

"  But  now,  Drysdale,  you  must  know  what  a  servitor 
is?" 

"  Why  should  I  ?  Do  you  mean  one  of  our  college  ser- 
vitors ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Oh !  something  in  the  upper-servant  line.  I  should 
put  him  above  the  porter,  and  below  the  cook  and  butler. 
He  does  the  dons'  dirty  work,  and  gets  their  broken  vict- 
uals ;  and  I  believe  he  pays  no  college  fees." 

Tom  rather  drew  into  himself  at  this  insolent  and  off- 
hand definition.  He  was  astonished  and  hurt  at  the  tone 
of  his  friend.  However,  presently,  he  resolved  to  go 
through  with  it,  and  began  again. 

u  But  servitors  are  gentlemen,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"A  good  deal  of  the  cock-tail  about  them,  I  should 
think.  But  I  have  not  the  honor  of  any  acquaintance 
amongst  them." 

"  At  any  rate,  they  are  undergraduates ;  are  not  they  5  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  may  take  degrees,  just  like  you  or  me  ?  " 

"  They  may  have  all  the  degrees  to  themselves,  for 
any  thing  I  care.  I  wish  they  would  let  one  pay  a  servi- 
tor for  passing  little-go  for  one.  It  would  be  deuced  com- 
fortable. I  wonder  it  don't  strike  the  dons,  now ;  they 
might  get  clever  beggars  for  servitors,  and  farm  them,  and 
so  make  loads  of  tin." 

"But,  Drysdale,  seriously,  why  should  you  talk  like 
that  ?  If  they  can  take  all  the  degrees  we  can,  and  are, 
in  fact,  just  what  we  are,  undergraduates,  I  can't  see  why 
they're  not  as  likely  to  be  gentlemen  as  we.  It  can  surely 
make  no  difference,  their  being  poor  men  ?  " 

"  It  must  make  them  devilish  uncomfortable,"  said  the 
incorrigible  payer  of  double  fees,  getting  up  to  light  hi* 
cigar. 

7* 


y 


78  TOM  BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

"  The  name  ought  to  carry  respect  here,  at  any  rate. 
The  Black  Prince  was  an  Oxford  man,  and  he  thought 
the  noblest  motto  he  could  take  was  '  Ich  dien,'  I  serve." 

"If  he  were  here  now,  he  would  change  it  for  *  Je 
paye.' " 

"  I  often  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  you  really  and 
truly  think,  Drysdale." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I'm  telling  you  what  I  do  really  think. 
"Whatever  the  Black  Prince  might  be  pleased  to  observe 
if  he  were  here,  I  stick  to  my  motto.  I  tell  you  the  thing 
to  be  able  to  do  here  at  Oxford  is — to  pay." 

"  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  do,  either." 

"  I  do,  though.  But  what  makes  you  so  curious  about 
servitors  ?  " 

"  "Why,  I've  made  friends  with  Hardy,  one  of  our  servi- 
tors.    He  is  such  a  fine  fellow  ! " 

I  am  sorry  to  relate  that  it  cost  Tom  an  effort  to  say 
this  to  Drysdale  ;  but  he  despised  himself  that  it  was  so. 

*  You  should  have  told  me  so  before  you  began  to 
pump  me,"  said  Drysdale.  "  However,  I  partly  suspected 
something  of  the  sort.  You've  a  good  bit  of  a  Quixote  in 
you.  But  really,  Brown,"  he  added,  seeing  Tom  redden 
and  look  angry,  "  I'm  sorry  if  what  I  said  pained  you.  I 
dare  say  this  friend  of  yours  is  a  gentleman,  and  all  you 
say." 

u  He  is  more  of  a  gentleman  by  a  long  way  than  most 
of  the—" 

*"' Gentlemen -commoners/  you  were  going  to  say. 
Don't  crane  at  such  a  small  fence  on  my  account.  I  will 
put  it  in  another  way  for  you.  He  can't  be  a  greater  snob 
4han  many  of  them." 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  79 

"Well,  but  why  do  you  live  with  them  so  much, 
then?" 

"  "Why  ?  Because  they  happen  to  do  the  things  I  like 
doing,  and  live  up  here  as  I  like  to  live.  I  like  hunting 
and  driving,  and  drawing  badgers  and  playing  cards,  and 
good  wines  and  cigars.  They  hunt  and  drive,  and  keep 
dogs  and  good  cellars,  and  will  play  unlimited  loo  or  Van 
John  as  long  as  I  please." 

"  But  I  know  you  get  very  sick  of  all  that  often,  for 
I've  heard  you  say  as  much  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  little 
time  I've  been  here." 

"  Why,  you  don't  want  to  deny  me  the  Briton's  privi- 
lege of  grumbling,  do  you  ? "  said  Drysdale,  as  he  flung 
his  legs  up  on  the  sofa,  crossing  one  over  the  other  as 
he  lounged  on  his  back  —  his  favorite  attitude  ;  "  but  sup- 
pose I  am  getting  tired  of  it  all  —  which  I'm  not  —  what 
do  you  propose  as  a  substitute  ?  " 

"Take  to  boating.  I  know  you  could  be  in  the  first 
boat  if  you  liked ;  I  heard  them  say  so  at  Smith's  wine 
the  other  night." 

"  But  what's  to  prevent  my  getting  just  as  tired  of  that? 
Besides,  it's  such  a  grind.  And  then  there's  the  bore  of 
changing  all  one's  habits. " 

"  Yes,  but  it's  such  splendid  hard  work,"  said  Tom,  who 
was  bent  on  making  a  convert  of  his  friend. 

"  Just  so ;  and  that's  just  what  I  don't  want ;  the 
"  books,  and  work,  and  healthful  play '  line  don't  suit  my 
complaint.  No ;  as  my  old  uncle  says,  *  a  young  fellow 
must  sow  his  wild  oats,'  and  Oxford  seems  a  place  spe- 
cially set  apart  by  Providence  for  that  operation." 

In  all  the  wide  range  of  accepted  British  maxims  there 
is  none,  take  it  for  all  in  all,  more  thoroughly  abominable 
than  this  one  as  to  the  sowing  of  wild  oats.  Look  at  it 
on  what  side  you  will,  and  I  will  defy  you  to  make  any 


80  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

thing  but  a  devil's  maxim  of  it.  What  a  man  —  be  be 
young,  old,  or  middle-aged —  sows,  that,  and  nothing  else, 
shall  he  reap.  The  one  only  thing  to  do  with  wild  oats,  is 
to  put  them  carefully  into  the  hottest  part  of  the  fire,  and 
get  them  burnt  to  dust,  every  seed  of  them.  If  you  sow 
them,  no  matter  in  what  ground,  up  they  will  come,  with 
long,  tough  roots  like  couch-grass,  and  luxuriant  stalks  and 
leaves,  as  sure  as  there  is  a  sun  in  heaven  —  a  crop  which 
it  turns  one's  heart  cold  to  think  of.  The  DeviLtoo,  whose 
special  crop  they  are,  will  see  that  they  thrive,  and  you, 
and  nobody  else,  will  have  to  reap  them ;  and  no  common 
reaping  will  get  them  out  of  the  soil,  which  must  be  dug 
down  deep  again  and  again.  Well  for  you  if  with  all  your 
care  you  can  make  the  ground  sweet  again  by  your  dying 
day.  "  Boys  will  be  boys  "  is  not  much  better,  but  that 
lias  a  true  side  to  it ;  but  this  encouragement  to  the  sowing 
of  wild  oats  is  simply  devilish,  for  it  means  that  a  young 
man  is  to  give  way  to  the  temptations  and  follow  the  lusts 
of  his  age.  What  are  we  to  do  with  the  wild  oats  of  man- 
hood and  old  age  —  with  ambition,  over-reaching,  the  false 
weights,  hardness,  suspicion,  avarice  —  if  the  wild  oats  of 
youth  are  to  be  sown  and  not  burnt  ?  What  possible  dis- 
tinction can  we  draw  between  them  ?  If  we  may  sow  the 
one,  why  not  the  other  ?  However  (as  I  have  been  re- 
minded—  perhaps  not  without  reason,  certainly  in  the 
kindest  manner  —  on  several  occasions),  I  a*m  writing  the., 
story  of  a  life,  or  rather  of  part  of  a  life,  and  not  sermons  ; 
and  though  I  protest  against  the  critical  law,  that  a  writer 
of  fiction  ought  to  confine  himself  to  trying  to  amuse,  I 
would  much  rather  produce  such  truth  as  there  is  in  me, 
and  such  faith  as  I  hold  and  desire  to  see  spreading,  by 
means  of  the  characters  in  my  story,  than  in  the  shape  of 
comment  in  my  own  person.  Only  in  trying  to  do  so  I 
om  often  met  by  another  critical  lawf  which  seems  to  me 
I 


i 


T05l    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  81 

to  be  a  higher  and  sounder  one  than  the  other ;  \  iz.,  that 
an  author  has  no  right  to  get  behind  his  characters  and 
pour  out  of  their  mouths  opinions  and  speculations  on 
deeply  interesting  questions  in  which  he  has  just  dabbled 
enough  to  feel  their  attraction,  without  having  ever  come 
on  firm  ground  or  made  up  hLs  mind.  I  feel  that  the 
critic  is  right  in  bringing  me  to  book,  and  saying,  Come 
now,  do  you  believe  this  or  that  ? 

"What  is  a  man  to  do,  then,  who  has  beliefs  and  writes 
to  bring  them  out?  You  will  say  doubtless,  dear  reader, 
write  essays,  sermons,  what  you  will,  only  not  fiction.  To 
which  I  would  reply,  Gladly,  O  dear  reader,  would  I 
write  essays  or  sermons,  seeing  that  they  take  less  out  of 
one  than  fiction — but  would  you  read  them?  You  know 
ycu  wouldn't.  And  so,  if  I  sometimes  stray  into  the  pul- 
pit, I  do  hope  you  wont  be  so  ungenerous  as  to  skip 
my  preachings.  To  drink  all  a  fellow's  sack  up,  and  then 
make  faces  at  his  poor  pennyworth  of  bread,  is  altogether 
unmanly  and  un-British ;  and,  if  you  should  take  to  in- 
dulging yourself  in  this  manner,  I  shall  begin  to  think  that 
you  are  capable  of  running  away  or  crying  out  for  peace 
at  any  price  when  the  French  shall  have  landed  at  sev- 
eral points  on  our  coast  simultaneously. 

But  to  gfet  back  to  our  story.  Tom  went  away  from 
Drysdale's  rooms  that  night,  after  they  had  sorted  all  the 
tackle  which  was  to  accompany  the  fishing  expedition  to 
their  satisfaction,  in  a  disturbed  state  of  mind.  He  was 
,  very  much  annoyed  at  Drysdale's  way  of  talking,  because 
he  was  getting  to  like  the  man.  He  was  surprised  and 
angry  at  being  driven  more  and  more  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  worship  of  the  golden  calf  was  verily  and  indeed 
rampant  in  Oxford  —  side  by  side,  no  doubt,  with  much 
that  was  manly  and  noble,  but  tainting  more  or  less  the 
whok  life  of  the  place.     In  fact,  what  annoyed  him  most, 


i 


62  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

was  the  consciousness  that  he  himself  was  becoming  an 
idolator ;  for  he  couldn't  help  admitting  that  he  felt  much 
more  comfortable  when  standing  in  the  quadrangles  or 
strolling  in  the  High  Street  with  Diysdale  in  his  velvet 
cap,  and  silk  gown,  and  faultless  get-up,  than  when  doing 
the  same  things  with  Hardy  in  his  faded  old  gown,  shabby 
loose  overcoat  and  well-worn  trousers.  He  wouldn't  have 
had  Hardy  suspect  the  fact  for  all  he  was  worth,  and 
hoped  to  get  over  the  feeling  soon  ;  but  there  it  was  un- 
mistakably. He  wondered  whether  Hardy  had  ever  felt 
any  thing  of  the  kind  himself. 

Nevertheless,  these  thoughts  did  not  hinder  him  from 
sleeping  soundly,  or  from  getting  up  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual  to  go  and  see  Drysdale  start  on  his  expedition. 

Accordingly,  he  was  in  Drysdale's  rooms  next  morning 
betimes,  and  assisted  at  the  early  breakfast  which  was 
going  on  there.  Blake  was  the  only  other  man  present. 
He  was  going  with  Drysdale,  and  entrusted  Tom  with  a 
message  to  Miller  and  the  captain,  that  he  could  not  pull 
in  the  boat  that  day,  but  would  pay  a  waterman  to  take 
his  place.  As  soon  as  the  gate  opened,  the  three,  accom- 
panied by  the  faithful  Jack,  and  followed  by  Drysdale's 
scout,  bearing  over-coats,  a  splendid  water-proof  apron 
lined  with  fur,  and  the  rods  and  creels,  sallied  out  of  col- 
lege, and  sought  the  livery  stables  patronized  by  the  men 
of  St.  Ambrose.  Here  they  found  a  dog-cart  all  ready  in 
the  yard,  with  a  strong  Roman-nosed,  vicious-looking,  rat- 
tailed  horse  in  the  shafts,  called  Satan,  by  Drysdale  ;  the 
leader  had  been  sent  on  to  the  first  turnpike.  The  things 
were  packed,  and  Jack,  the  bull-dog,  hoisted  into  the  inte- 
rior in  a  few  minutes.  Drysdale  produced  a  long,  straight 
horn,  which  he  called  his  yard  of  tin  (probably  because  it 
was  made  of  brass),  and  after  refreshing  himsc/f  with  a 
blast  or  two,  handed  it  over  to  Blake,  and  ther   mounted 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  83 

the  dog-cart,  and  took  the  reins.  Blake  seated  himself  by 
his  side  ;  the  help  who  was  to  accompany  them,  got  up  be- 
hind ;  and  Jack  looked  wisely  out  from  his  inside  place 
over  the  backboard. 

"  Are  we  all  right  ?  "  said  Drysdale,  catching  his  long 
tandem  whip  into  a  knowing  double  thong. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  the  head  ostler,  touching  his  cap. 

"  You'd  better  have  come,  my  boy,"  said  Drysdale  to 
Tom,  as  they  trotted  off  out  of  the  yard ;  and  Tom  couldn't 
help  envying  them  as  he  followed,  and  watched  the  dog- 
cart lessening  rapidly  down  the  empty  street,  and  heard 
the  notes  of  the  yard  of  tin,  which  Blake  managed  to 
make  really  musical,  borne  back  on  the  soft  western 
breeze.     It  was  such  a  stunning  morning  for  fishing ! 

However,  it  was  too  late  to  repent,  had  he  wished  it ; 
and  so  he  got  back  to  chapel,  and  destroyed  the  whole 
effect  of  the  morning  service  on  Miller's  mind,  by  deliver- 
in  2r  Blake's  message  to  that  choleric  coxswain  as  soon  as 
chapel  was  over.  Miller  vowed  for  the  twentieth  time 
that  Blake  should  be  turned  out  of  the  boat,  and  went  off 
to  the  captain's  rooms  to  torment  him,  and  consult  what 
was  to  be  done. 

The  weather  continued  magnificent  —  a  soft,  dull,  gray 
March  day,  with  a  steady  wind ;  and  the  thought  of  the 
lucky  fishermen,  and  visions  of  creels  filled  with  huge 
three-pounders,  haunted  Tom  at  lecture  and  throughout 
the  day. 

At  two  o'clock  he  was  down  at  the  river.  The  college 
eight  was  to  go  down  for  the  first  time  in  the  season  to  the 
reaches  below  Nuneham,  for  a  good  training  pull,  and  he 
had  had  notice,  to  his  great  joy,  that  he  was  to  be  tried  in 
the  boat.  But,  great,  no  doubt,  as  was  the  glory  the  price 
was  a_  heavy  one.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had  been 
subjected  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Miller,  the  coxswain,  or 


84  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

had  pulled  behind  the  captain  ;  and  it  did  not  take  long  to 
convince  him  that  it  was  a  very  different  style  of  thing 
from  any  thing  he  had  as  yet  been  accustomed  to  in  the 
freshmen's  crew.  The  long,  steady  sweep  of  the  so-called 
paddle  tried  him  almost  as  much  as  the  breathless  strain 
of  the  spurt. 

Miller,  too,  was  in  one  of  his  most  relentless  moods. 
He  was  angry  at  Blake's  desertion,  and  seemed  to  think 
that  Tom  had  had  something  to  do  with  it,  though  he  had 
simply  delivered  the  message  which  had  been  entrusted 
to  him  ;  and  so,  though  he  distributed  rebuke  and  objur- 
gation to  every  man  in  the  boat  except  the  captain,  he 
seemed  to  our  hero  to  take  particular  delight  in  working 
him.  There  he  stood  in  the  stern,  the  fiery  little  cox- 
swain, leaning  forward  with  a  tiller-rope  in  each  hand,  and 
bending  to  every  stroke,  shouting  his  warnings  and  re- 
bukes, and  monitions  to  Tom,  till  he  drove  him  to  his  wits' 
end.  By  the  time  the  boat  came  back  to  Hall's,  his  arms 
were  so  numb  that  he  could  hardly  tell  whether  his  oar 
was  in  or  out  of  his  hand ;  his  legs  were  stiff  and  aching, 
and  every  muscle  in  his  body  felt  as  if  it  had  been  pulled 
out  an  inch  or  two.  As  he  walked  up  to  college,  he 
felt  as  if  his  shoulders  and  legs  had  nothing  to  do  with 
one  another  ;  in  short  he  had  had  a  very  hard  day's  woii^, 
and,  after  going  fast  asleep  at  a  wine  party,  and  trying  in 
vain  to  rouse  himself  by  a  stroll  in  the  streets,  fairly  gave 
in  about  ten  o'clock,  and  went  to  bed  without  remember- 
ing to  sport  his  oak. 

For  some  hours  he  slept  the  sleep  of  the  dead,  but  at 
last  began  to  be  conscious  of  voices,  and  the  clinking  of 
glasses,  and  laughter,  and  scraps  of  songs ;  and  after  turn- 
ing himself  once  or  twice  in  bed,  to  ascertain  whether  he 
was  awake  or  no,  rubbed  his  eyes,  sat  up,  and  became 
aware  that  something  very  entertaining  to  the  parties  con- 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  85 

cerned  was  going  on  in  his  sitting-room.  After  listening 
for  a  minute,  he  jumped  up,  threw  on  his  shooting-coat, 
appeared  at  the  door  of  his  own  sitting-room,  where  he 
paused  a  moment  to  contemplate  the  scene  which  met 
his  astonished  vision.  His  fire,  recently  replenished,  was 
burning  brightly  in  the  grate,  and  his  candles  on  the  table, 
on  which  stood  his  whiskey  bottle,  and  tumblers,  and  hot 
water.  On  his  sofa,  which  had  been  wheeled  round  be- 
fore the  fire,  reclined  Drysdale,  on  his  back,  in  his  pet 
attitude,  one  leg  crossed  over  the  other,  with  a  paper  in 
his  hand,  from  which  he  was  singing,  and  in  the  arm-chair 
sat  Blake,  while  Jack  was  coiled  on  the  rug,  turning  him- 
self every  now  and  then  in  a  sort  of  uneasy  protest  against 
his  master's  untimely  hilarity.  At  first,  Tom  felt  inclined 
to  be  angry,  but  the  jolly  shout  of  laughter  with  which 
Drysdale  received  him,  as  he  stepped  out  into  the  light  in 
night-shirt,  shooting-coat,  and  dishevelled  hair,  took  all 
the  rile  out  of  him  at  once. 

"  Why,  Brown,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  been 
in  bed  this  last  half-hour  ?  We  looked  into  the  bedroom, 
and  thought  it  was  empty.  Sit  down,  old  fellow,  and 
make  yourself  at  home.  Have  a  glass  of  grog ;  it's  first- 
rate  whiskey." 

.  "  Well,  you're  a  couple  of  cool  hands,  I  must  say,"  said 
Tom.     "  How  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

"  Through  the  door,  like  honest  men,"  said  Drysdale. 
"  You're  the  only  good  fellow  in  college  to-night.  When 
we  got  back  our  fires  were  out,  and  we've  been  all  round 
college,  and  found  all  the  oaks  sported  but  yours.  Never 
sport  your  oak,  old  boy;  it's  a  bad  habit.  You  don't 
know  at  what  time  in  the  morning  you  may  entertain  an- 
gels unawares." 

"  You're  a  rum  pair  of  angels,  anyhow,"  said  Tom,  tak- 
ing his  seat  on  the  sofa.     "  But  what  o'clock  is  it  ?  " 
8 


86  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Oh !  about  half-past  one,"  said  Drysdale.  "  We've  had 
a  series  of  catastrophes.  Never  got  irito  college  till  near 
one.  I  thought  we  should  never  have  waked  that  besot- 
ted little  porter.  However,  here  we  are  at  last,  you  see, 
all  right." 

"  So  it  seems,"  said  Tom ;  "but  how  about  the  fishing?" 
1  "  Fishing !  we've  never  thrown  a  fly  all  day,"  said 
Drysdale. 

"  He  is  so  cursedly  conceited  about  his  knowledge  of 
the  country,"  struck  in  Blake.  "  What  with  that,  and  his 
awful  twist,  and  incurable  habit  of  gossiping,  and  his 
blackguard  dog,  and  his  team  of  a  devil  and  a  young  fe- 
male —  " 

"  Hold  your  scandalous  tongue,"  shouted  Drysdale. 
"  To  hear  you  talking  of  my  twist,'indeed ;  you  ate  four 
chops  and  a  whole  chicken  to-day,  at  dinner,  to  your  own 
cheek,  you  know." 

"  That's  quite  another  thing,"  said  Blake.  "  I  like  to  see 
a  fellow  an  honest  grubber  at  breakfast  and  dinner ;  but 
you've  always  got  your  nose  in  the  manger.  That's  how 
we  got  all  wrong  to-day.  Brown.  You  saw  what  a  break- 
fast he  ate  before  starting ;  well,  nothing  would  satisfy 
him  but  another  at  Whitney.  There  we  fell  in  with  a 
bird  in  mahogany  tops,  and,  as  usual,  Drysdale  began 
chumming  with  him.  He  knew  all  about  the  fishing  of 
the  next  three  counties.  I  dare  say  he  did.  My  private 
belief  is,  that  he  is  one  of  the  Hungerford  town  council, 
who  let  the  fishing  there ;  at  any  rate,  he  swore  it  was  no 
use  our  going  to  Fairford;  the  only  place  where  fish 
would  be  in  season  was  Hungerford.  Of  course,  Drysdale 
swallowed  it  all,  and  nothing  would  serve  him  but  that  we 
should  turn  off  for  Hungerford  at  once.  Now,  I  did  go 
once  to  Hungerford  races,  and  I  ventured  to  suggest  that 
we  should  never  get  near-  the  place.     Not  a  bit  of  u.«e  j 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  87 

he  knew  every  foot  of  the  countiy.  It  was  the.a  about 
nine ;  he  would  guarantee  that  we  should  be  there  by 
twelve,  at  latest." 

"  So  we  should  have  been,  but  for  accidents,"  struck  in 
Drysdale. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  what  we  did  was  to  drive  into  Far- 
ringdon,  instead  of  Hungerford,  both  horses  dead  done  up, 
at  twelve  o'clock,  after  missing  our  way  about  twenty 
times." 

"  Because  you  would  put  in  your  oar,"  said  Drysdale. 

"  Then  grub  again,"  went  on  Blake,  "  and  an  hour  to 
bait  the  horses.  I  knew  we  were  as  likely  to  get  to  Jer- 
icho as  to  Hungerford.  However,  he  would  start ;  but, 
luckily,  about  two  miles  from  Farringdon,  old  Satan 
bowled  quietly  into  a  bank,  broke  a  shaft,  and  deposited 
us  then  and  there.  He  wasn't  such  a  fool  as  to  be  going 
to  Hungerford  at  that  time  of  day  ;  the  first  time  in  his 
wicked  old  life  that  I  ever  remember  seeing  him  do  any 
thing  that  pleased  me." 

<8hCome  now,"  said  Drysdale,  "  do  you  mean  to  say  you 
ever  sat  behind  a  better  wheeler,  when  he's  in  a  decent 
temper  ?  " 

"  Can't  say,"  said  Blake ;  "  never  sat  behind  him  in  a 
good  temper,  that  I  can  remember." 

■"I'll  trot  him  five  miles  out  and  home  in  a  dog-cart,  on 
any  road  out  of  Oxford,  against  any  horse  you  can  bring, 
•for  a  fiver." 

"  Done ! "  said  Blake. 

"  But  were  you  upset?"  said  Tom.  "How  did  you  get 
into  the  bank  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Drysdale,  "  Jessy  —  that's  the 
little  blood-mare,  my  leader  —  is  very  young,  arid  as  shy 
and  skittish  as  the  rest  of  her  sex.     We  turned  a  cornex 


88  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

sharp,  and  came  right  upon  a  gypsy  encampment.  Up  she 
went  into  the  air  in  a  moment,  and  then  turned  right 
round  and  came  head  on  at  the  cart.  I  gave  her  the 
double  thong  across  her  face  to  send  her  back  again,  and 
Satan,  seizing  the  opportunity,  rushed  against  the  bank, 
dragging  her  with  him,  and  snapped  the  shaft." 

"  And  so  ended  our  day's  fishing,"  said  Blake.  "  And 
next  moment  out  jumps  that  brute,  Jack,  and  pitches  into 
the  gypsy's  dog,  who  had  come  up  very  naturally  to  have 
a  look  at  what  was  going  on.  Down  jumps  Drysdale,  to 
see  that  his  beast  gets  fair  play,  leaving  me  and  the  help 
to  look  after  the  wreck,  and  keep  his  precious  wheeler 
from  kicking  the  cart  into  little  pieces." 

"  Come  now,"  said  Drysdale,  "  you  must  own  we  fell 
on  our  own  legs  after  all.  Hadn't  we  a  jolly  afternoon  ? 
I'm  thinking  of  turning  tramp,  Brown.  We  spent  three 
or  four  hours  in  that  camp,  and  Blake  got  spooney  on  a 
gypsy  girl,  and  has  written  I  don't  know  how  many  songs 
on  them.     Didn't  you  hear  us  singing  them  just  now  ?  " 

"But  how  did  you  get  the  cart  mended ? "  said  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  the  tinker  patched  up  the  shaft  for  us  —  a  cun- 
ning old  beggar,  the  pere  de  famille  of  the  encampment; 
up  to  every  move  on  the  board.  He  wanted  to  have 
a  deal  with  me  for  Jessy.  But,  'pon  my  honor,  we  had 
a  good  time  of  it.  There  was  the  old  tinker,  mending 
the  shaft,  in  his  fur  cap,  with  a  black  pipe,  one  inch 
long,  sticking  out  of  his  mouth :  and  the  old  brown  parch-* 
ment  of  a  mother,  with  her  head  in  a  red  handkerchief, 
smoking  a  ditto  pipe  to  the  tinker's,  who  told  our  fortunes, 
and  talked  like  a  printed  book.  Then  there  -was  his  wife, 
and  the  slip  of  a  girl  who  bowled  over  Blake  there,  and 
half  a  dozen  ragged  brats  ;  and  a  fellow  on  tramp,  not  a 
gypsy  —  some  runaway  apprentice  I  take  it,  but  a  jolly 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  89 

doGr  —  with  no  lugcracre  but  an  old  fiddle,  on  which  ho 
scraped  away  uncommonly  well,  and  set  Blake  making 
rhymes  as  we  sat  in  the  tent.  You  never  heard  any  of 
his  songs.  Here's  one  for  each  of  us  ;  we're  going  to  get 
up  the  characters  and  sing  them  about  the  country ;  now 
for  a  rehearsal ;  I'll  be  the  tinker." 

"  No ;  you  must  take  the  servant  girl,"  said  Blake. 

"  Well,  we'll  toss  up  for  characters  when  the  time  comes. 
You  begin  then ;  here's  the  song ; "  and  he  handed  one 
of  the  papers  to  Blake,  who  began  singing  :  — 

"  Squat  on  a  green  plot, 

We  scorn  a  bench  or  settle,  oh ! 

Plying  and  trying, 

A  spice  of  every  trade  ; 

Razors  we  grind, 

Ring  a  pig.  or  mend  a  kettle,  oh ! 

Come,  what  d'ye  lack  ? 

Speak  it  out,  my  pretty  maid. 

"  I'll  set  your  scissors,  while 

My  granny  tells  you  plainly, 
Who  stole  your  barley  meal, 

Your  butter  or  your  heart ; 
Tell  if  your  husband  will 

Be  handsome  or  ungainly,     . 
Ride  in  a  coach  and  four,  or 

Rough  it  in  a  cart." 

"  Enter  Silly  Sally ;  that's  I,  for  the  present,  you  see,n 
said  Drysdale ;  and  he  began  — 

"Oh,  dear  !  what  can  the  matter  je  ? 
Dear,  dear !  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 
Oh,  dear !  what  can  the  matter  be  ! 
All  in  a  pucker  be  1 ; 
I'm  growing  uneasy  about  Billy  Martin, 
For  love  is  a  casualty  desperV  unsartin. 
Law  !  yonder's  the  gypsies  as  tells  folks'  fortin ; 
I'm  half  in  the  mind  for  to  try." 
8* 


90  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

"  Then  you  must  be  the  old  gypsy  woman,  Mother  Pa- 
trico  ;  here's  your  part,  Brown." 

"  But  what's  the  tune  ?  "   said  Tom. 

"  Oh!  you  can't  miss  it ;  go  ahead  ;  "  and  so  Tom,  who 
was  dropping  into  the  humor  of  the  thing,  droned  out  from 
the  MS.  handed  to  him  — 

"  Chairs  to  mend, 
Old  chairs  to  mend, 
Rush-bottom'd,  cane  bottom'd 
Chairs  to  mend. 
Maid,  approach, 
If  thou  wouldst  know 
What  the  stars 
May  deign  to  show." 

"  Now,  tinker,"  said  Drysdale.  nodding  at  Blake,  who 
rattled  on,  — 

"  Chance  feeds  us,  chance  leads  us 

Round  the  land  in  jollity  ; 
Rag-dealing,  nag-stealing, 

Everywhere  we  roam ; 
Brass  mending,  ass  vending, 

Happier  than  the  quality ; 
Swipes  soaking,  pipes  smoking, 

Ev'ry  barn  a  home  ; 
Tink  tink,  a  tink  a  tink, 

Our  life  is  full  of  fun,  boys ; 
Clink  tink,  a  tink  a  tink, 

Our  busy  hammers  ring ; 
Clink  tink,  a  tink  a  tink, 

Our  job  will  soon  be  done,  boys ; 
Then  tune  we  merrily 

The  bladder  and  the  string." 

Drysdale,  as  Silly  Sally. 

u  Oh,  dear  !  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 
Dear,  dear !  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 
Oh,  dear !  what  can  the  matter  be  ? 
There's  such  a  look  in  her  eye. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  91 

Oh,  lawk  !  I  declare  I  be  all  of  a  tremble ; 
My  mind  it  misgives  me  about  Sukey  Wimble, 
A  splatter-filled  wench  neither  civil  nor  nimble  i 
She'll  bring  Billy  to  beggary." 

Tom,  as  Mother  Patrico. 

"  Show  your  hand ; 
Come,  show  your  hand ! 
"Would  you  know 
What  fate  hath  planned  ? 
Heaven  forefend, 
Ay,  Heav'n  forefend ! 
What  may  these 
Cross-lines  portend?" 

Blake,  as  the  Tinker. 

u  Owl,  pheasant,  all's  pleasant ; 

Nothing  comes  amiss  to  us ; 
Hare,  rabbit,  snare,  nab  it, 

Cock,  or  hen,  or  kite ; 
Tom-cat,  with  strong  fat, 

A  dainty  supper  is  to  us ; 
Hedge-hog  and  sedge-frog 

To  stew  is  our  delight ; 
Bow,  wow,  with  angry  bark 

My  lady's  dog  assails  us ; 
We  sack  him  up,  and  clap 

A  stopper  on  his  din. 
Now,  pop  him  in  the  pot ; 

His  store  of  meat  avails  us ; 
Wife  cooks  him  nice  and  hot, 

And  granny  tans  his  skin." 

Drysdale,  as  Silly  Sally. 

"  Oh,  lawk !  what  a  calamity ! 
Oh,  my  !  what  a  calamity  ! 
Oh,  dear!  what  a  calamity! 
Lost  and  forsaken  be  I. 
Fm  out  of  my  senses,  and  naught  will  content  me, 
But  pois'ning  Poll  Ady  who  helped  circumvent  me ; 


92  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Come,  tell  me  the  means,  for  no  power  shall  prevent  me ; 
Oh,  give  me  revenge,  or  I  die.5' 

Tom,  as  Mother  Patrico. 

"  Pause  a  -while ! 
Anon,  anon ! 
Give  me  time 
The  stars  to  con. 
True  love's  course 
Shall  yet  run  smooth ; 
True  shall  prove 
The  favor'd  youth." 

Blake,  as  the  Tinker. 

"  Tink  tink,  a  tink  a  tink, 

"We'll  work  and  then  get  tipsy,  oh ! 
Clink  tink,  on  each  chink, 

Our  busy  hammers  ring. 
Tink  tink,  a  tink  a  tink, 

How  merry  lives  a  gypsy,  oh ! 
Chanting  and  ranting; 

As  happy  as  a  king." 

Drysdale,  as  Silly  Sally. 

u  Joy  !  joy !  all  will  end  happily ! 

Joy  !  joy  !  all  will  end  happily  I 

Joy !  joy  !  all  will  end  happily  ! 

Bill  will  be  constant  to  I. 

Oh,  thankee,  good  dame,  here's  my  purse  and 

my  thimble ; 
A  fig  for  Poll  Ady  and  fat  Sukey  Wimble, 
I  now  could  jump  over  the  steeple  so  nimble ; 
With  joy  I  be  ready  to  cry." 

Tom,  as  Mother  Patrico, 

"William  shall 
Be  rich  and  great ; 
And  shall  prove 
A  constant  mate. 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  93 

Thank  not  me, 
But  thank  your  fate, 
On  whose  high 
Decrees  I  wait." 

"Well,  wont  that  do?  wont  it  bring  the  house  down? 
I'm  going  to  send  for  dresses  from  London,  and  we'll  start 
next  week." 

"  What,  on  the  tramp,  singing  these  songs  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  we'll  begin  in  some  out-of-the-way  place  till  we 
get  used  to  it." 

"  And  end  in  the  lock-up,  I  should  say,"  said  Tom ; 
"  it'll  be  a  good  lark,  though.  Now,  you  haven't  told  me 
how  you  got  home." 

"  Oh !  we  left  camp  at  about  five  —  " 

"  The  tinker  having  extracted  a  sovereign  from  Drys- 
dale,"  interrupted  Blake. 

"What  did  you  give  to  the  little  gypsy  yourself?"  re- 
torted Drysdale ;  "  I  saw  your  adieus  under  the  thorn-bush. 
—  Well,  we  got  on  all  right  to  old  Murdoch's,  at  Kingston 
Inn,  by  about  seven,  and  there  we  had  dinner ;  and  after 
dinner  the  old  boy  came  in ;  he  and  I  are  great  chums, 
for  I'm  often  there  and  always  ask  him  in.  But  that  beg- 
gar Blake,  \yho  never  saw  him  before,  cut  me  clean  out 
in  five  minutes.  Fancy  his  swearing  he  is  Scotch,  and 
that  an  ancestor  of  his  in  the  sixteenth  century  married  a 
Murdoch  ! " 

"  Well,  when  you  come  to  think  what  a  lot  of  ancestors 
one  must  have  had  at  that  time,  it's  probably  true,"  said 
Blake. 

"  At  any  rate,  it  took,"  went  on  Drysdale.  "  I  thought 
old  Murdoch  would  have  wept  on  his  neck.  As  it  was, 
he  scattered  snuff  enough  to  fill  a  pint  pot  over  him  out 
of  his  mull,  and  began  talking  Gaelic.     And  Blake  had 


94  TOM   BIIOWN   AT    OXFORD. 

the  cheek  to  jabber  a  lot  of  gibberish  back  to  him,  as  if 
he  understood  every  word." 

"  Gibberish !  it  was  the  purest  Gaelic,"  said  Blake, 
laughing. 

"  I  heard  a  lot  of  Greek  words  myself,"  said  Drysdale ; 
"  but  old  Murdoch  was  too  pleased  at  hearing  his  own 
clapper  going,  and  too  full  of  whiskey,  to  find  him  out." 

"  Let  alone  that  I  doubt  whether  he  remembers  more 
than  about  five  words  of  his  native  tongue  himself,"  said 
Blake. 

"  The  old  boy  got  so  excited  that  he  went  up-stairs  f~r 
his  plaid  and  dirk,  and  dressed  himself  up  in  them,  apolo- 
gizing that  he  could  not  appear  in  the  full  garb  of  old 
Gaul,  in  honor  of  his  new-found  relative,  as  his  daughter 
had  cut  up  his  old  kilt  for  '  trews  for  the  bairnies '  during 
his  absence  from  home.  Then  they  took  to  more  toddy 
and  singing  Scotch  songs,  till  at  eleven  o'clock  they  were 
standing  on  their  chairs,  right  hands  clasped,  each  with 
one  foot  on  the  table,  glasses  in  the  other  hands,  the  toddy 
flying  over  the  room  as  they  swayed  about,  roaring  like 
maniacs,  what  was  it  ?  —  oh !  I  have  it. 

"  '  TFw#-an-toorey  all  agree, 

" '  IFt^-an-toorey,  wm^-an-toorey.' " 

"  He  hasn't  told  you  that  he  tried  to  join  us,  and  tum- 
bled over  the  back  of  his  chair  into  the  dirty-plate  basket." 

"  A  libel !  a  libel ! "  shouted  Drysdale ;  "  the  leg  of  my 
chair  broke,  and  I  stepped  down  gracefully  and  safely,  and 
when  I  looked  up  and  saw  what  a  tottery  performance  it 
was,  I  concluded  to  give  them  a  wide  berth.  It  would  be 
no  joke  to  have  old  Murdoch  topple  over  on  to  you.  I 
left  them  '  wug-an-tooreying,'  and  went  out  to  look  after 
the  trap,  which  was  ordered  to  be  at  the  door  at  half-past 
ten.  I  found  Murdock's  ostler  very  drunk,  but  sober, 
compa?ed  with  that  rascally  help  whom  we  had  been  fools 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  95 

enough  to  take  with  us.  They  had  got  the  trap  out  and 
the  horses  in,  but  that  old  rascal,  Satan,  was  standing  so 
quiet  that  I  suspected  something  wrong.  Sure  enough, 
when  I  came  to  look,  they  had  him  up  to  the  cheek  on 
one  side  of  his  mouth,  and  third  bar  on  the  other,  his 
belly-band  buckled  across  his  back,  and  no  kicking  strap. 
The  old  brute  wTas  chuckling  to  himself  what  he  would  do" 
with  us  as  soon  as  we  had  started  in  that  trim.  It  took 
half  an  hour  getting  all  right,  as  I  was  the  only  one  able 
to  do  any  thing." 

"  Yes,  you  would  have  said  so,"  said  Blake,  "  if  you 
had  seen  him  trying  to  put  Jack  up  behind.  He  made 
six  shots  with  the  old  dog,  and  dropped  him  about  on  his 
head  and  the  broad  of  his  back  as  if  he  had  been  a  bundle 
of  eels." 

"  The  fact  is,  that  that  rascally  ostler  had  made  poor  old 
Jack  drunk  too,"  explained  Drysdale,  "  and  he  wouldn't 
be  lifted  straight.  However,  we  got  off  at  last,  and  hadn't 
gone  a  mile  before  the  help  (who  was  maundering  away 
some  cursed  sentimental  ditty  or  other  behind)  lurched 
more  heavily  than  usual,  and  pitched  off  into  the  night, 
somewhere.  Blake  looked  for  him  for  half  an  hour,  and 
couldn't  find  a  hair  of  him." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  the  man  tumbled  off  and  you 
never  found  him  ?  "  said  Tom,  in  horror. 

"  Well,  that's  about  the  fact,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  but  it 
aint  so  bad  as  you  think.  "We  had  no  lamps,  and  it  was 
an  uncommon  bad  night  for  running  by  holloas." 

"  But  a  firstrate  night  for  running  by  scent,"  broke  in 
Blake ;  "  the  fellow  leant  against  nte  until  he  made  his 
exit,  and  I'd  have  backed  myself  to  have  hit  the  scent 
again  half  a  mile  off,  if  the  wind  had  only  been  right." 

"  He  may  have  broken  his  neck,"  said*  Tom. 

"  Can  a  fellow  sing  with  a  broken  neck  ?  "  said  Drys- 


96  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

dale  ;  "  hanged  if  I  know  !  But  don't  I  tell  you  we  heard 
him  maundering  on  somewhere  or  other?  and,  when 
Blake  shouted,  he  answered  in  endearing  terms  ;  and,  when 
Blake  swore,  he  rebuked  him  piously  out  of  the  pitch 
darkness,  and  told  him  to  go  home  and  repent.  I  nearly 
dropped  off  the  box  for  laughing  at  them ;  and  then  he 
1  up-lifted  his  testimony/  as  he  called  it,  against  me  for 
driving  a  horse  called  Satan.  I  believe  he's  a  ranting 
Methodist  spouter." 

"  I  tried  hard  to  find  him,"  said  Blake,  "  for  I  should 
dearly  have  liked  to  have  kicked  him  safely  into  the 
ditch." 

"At  last,  Black  Will  himself  couldn't  have  held  Satan 
another  minute.  So  Blake  scrambled  up,  and  away  we 
came,  and  knocked  into  college  at  one  for  a  finish :  the 
rest  you  know." 

"  Well,  you've  had  a  pretty  good  day  of  it,"  said  Tom, 
who  had  been  hugely  amused ;  "  but  I  should  feel  nervous 
about  the  help,  if  I  were  you." 

"  Oh !  he'll  come  to  no  grief,  I'll  be  bound,"  said  Drys- 
dale  ;  "  but  what  o'clock  is  it  ?  " 

"  Three,"  said  Blake,  looking  at  his  watch  and  getting 
up  ;  "  time  to  turn  in." 

"  The  first  time  I  ever  heard  you  say  that,"  said  Drys- 
dale. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  forgot  we  were  up  this  morning  before 
the  world  was  aired.     Good-night,  Brown." 
1   Andtoff  the  two  went,  leaving  Tom  to  sport  his  oak  this 
time  and  retire  in  wonder  to  bed. 

Drysdale  was  adeep  with  Jack  curled  up  on  the  foot 
of  the  bed  in  ten  minutes.  Blake,  by  the  help  of  wet 
towels  and  a  knotted  piece  of  whipcord  round  his  fore- 
head, read  Pindar  till  the  chapel  bell  began  to  ring. 


CHAPTER  VH. 


AN   EXPLOSION. 


Our  hero  soon  began  to  feel  that  lie  was  contracting 
nis  first  serious  college  friendship.  The  great,  strong, 
badly  dressed,  badly  appointed  servitor,  who  seemed  al- 
most at  the  same  time  utterly  reckless  of  and  nervously 
alive  to  the  opinion  of  all  around  him,  with  his  bursts  of 
womanly  tenderness  and  Berserkir  rage,  alternating  like 
the  storms  and  sunshine  of  a  July  day  on  a  high  moor- 
land, his  keen  sense  of  humor  and  appreciation  of  all  the 
good  things  of  this  life,  the  use  and  enjoyment  of  which 
he  was  so  steadily  denying  himself  from  high  principle, 
had  from  the  first  seized  powerfully  on  all  Tom's  sympa- 
thies, and  was  daily  gaining  more  hold  upon  him. 

Blessed  is  the  man  who  has  the  gift  of  making  friends, 
for  it  is  one  of  God's  best  gifts.  It  involves  many  things, 
but  above  all,  I  take  it,  the  power  of  going  out  of  one's 
self,  and  seeing  and  appreciating  whatever  is  noble  and 
living  (in  St.  Paul's  sense)  in  another  man. 

But  even  to  him  who  has  the  gift,  it  is  often  a  great 
puzzle  to  find  out  whether  a  man  is  really  a  friend  or 
not.  The  following  is  recommended  as  a  test  in  the  case 
of  any  man  about  whom  you  are  not  quite  sure,  especially 
if  he  should  happen  to  have  more  of  this  world's  goods, 
either  in  the  shape  of  talent,  rank,  money,  or  what  not, 
than  you : — 

Fancy  the  man  stripped  stark  naked  of  every  thing  in 
the  world  except  an  old  pair  of  trousers  and  a  shirt,  for 
9      k 


98  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

decency's  sake,  without  even  a  name  to  him,  and  dropped 
down  in  the  middle  of  Holborn  or  Piccadilly.  Yvrould 
you  go  up  to  him  then  and  there,  and  lead  him  out  from 
amongst  the  cabs  and  omnibuses,  and  take  him  to  your 
own  home,  and  feed  him,  and  clothe  him,  and  stand  by  him 
against  all  the  world,  to  your  last  sovereign  and  your  last 
leg  of  mutton  ?  If  you  wouldn't  do  this,  you  have  no 
right  to  call  him  by  the  sacred  name  of  friend.  If  you 
would,  the  odds  are  that  he  would  do  the  same  by  you,  and 
you  may  count  yourself  a  rich  man.  For  I  reckon  that, 
were  friendship  expressible  by,  or  convertible  into,  current 
coin  of  the  realm,  one  such  friend  would  be  worth  to  a 
man  at  least  £100,000.  How  many  millionnaires  are  there 
in  England?  I  can't  even  guess;  but  more  by  a  good 
many,  I  fear,  than  there  are  men  who  have  ten  real 
friends.  But  friendship  is  not  so  expressible  or  converti- 
ble. It  is  more  precious  than  wisdom  ;  and  wisdom  "  can- 
not be  gotten  for  gold,  nor  shall  rubies  be  mentioned  in 
comparison  thereof."  Not  all  the  riches  that  ever  came 
out  of  earth  and  sea  are  worth  thr>  assurance  of  one  such 
real,  abiding  friendship  in  your  heart  of  hearts. 

But  for  the  worth  of  a  friendship,  commonly  so  called 
—  meaning  thereby  a  sentiment  founded  on  the  good  din- 
ners, good  stories,  opera  stalls,  and  days!  shooting  you 
have  gotten  or  hope  to  get  out  of  a  man,;the  snug  things 
in  his  gift,  and  his  powers  of  procuring  enjoyment  of  one 
kind  or  another  to  your  miserable  body  or  intellect  —  why, 
such  a  friendship  as  that  is  to  be  appraised  easily  enough 
if  you  find  it  worth  your  while ;  but  you'll  have  to  pay 
your  pound  of  flesh  for  it  one  way  or  another,  you  may 
take  your  oath  of  that.  If  you  follow  my  advice,  you  will 
take  a  £10  note  down,  and  retire  to  your  crust  of  bread 
and  liberty. 

So,  as  I  was  saying,  Tom  was  rapidly  falling  into  friend- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  93 

ihip  with  Hardy.  He  was  not  bound  hand  and  foot  and 
carried  away  captive  till  some  months  later ;  but  he  was 
already  getting  deeper  in  the  toils. 

One  evening  he  found  himself  as  usual  at  Hardy's  door 
about  eight  o'clock.  The  oak  was  open,  but  he  got  no 
answer  when  he  knocked  at  the  inner  door.  Nevertheless, 
lie  entered,  having  quite  got  over  all  shyness  or  ceremony 
by  this  time.  The  room  was  empty ;  but  two  tumblers 
ar.d  the  black  bottle  stood  on  the  table,  and  the  kettle  was 
hissing  away  on  the  hob.  "  Ah,"  thought  Tom,  "  he  ex- 
pects me,  I  see."  So  he  turned  his  back  to  the  lire,  and 
made  himself  at  home.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  and 
still  Hardy  did  not  return.  "  Never  knew  him  out  so  long 
before  at  this  time  of  night,"  thought  Tom.  "  Perhaps 
he's  at  some  party.  I  hope  so.  It  would  do  him  a  deal 
of  good ;  and  I  know  he  might  go  out  if  he  liked.  Next 
term  see  if  I  wont  make  him  more  sociable.  It's  a  stupid 
custom  that  freshmen  don't  give  parties  in  their  first  term, 
or  I'd  do  it  at  once.  Why  wont  he  be  more  sociable  ? 
No,  after  all,  sociable  isn't  the  word ;  he's  a  very  sociable 
fellow  at  bottom.  What  in  the  world  is  it  that  he  wants?" 
And  so  Tom  balanced  himself  on  the  two  hind  legs  of  onei 
of  the  Windsor  chairs,  and  betook  himself  to  pondering 
what  it  was  exactly  which  ought  to  be  added  to  Hardy  to 
make  him  an  unexceptionable  object  of  hero-worship ; 
when  the  man  himself  came  suddenly  into  the  room,  slam- 
ming his  oak  behind  him,  and  casting  his  cap  and  gown 
fiercely  on  to  the  sofa,  before  he  noticed  our  hero. 

Tom  jumped  up  at  once.  "  Mf  dear  fellow,  what's  the 
matter?"  he  said.     "I'm  sorry  I  came  in.     Shall  I  go?" 

"  No  ;  don't  go.  Sit  down,"  said  Hardy,  abruptly ;  and 
then  began  to  smoke  fast  without  saying  another  word. 

Tom  waited  a  few  minutes,  watching  him,  and  then 
broke  silence  again. 


100  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

"  I  am  sure  something  is  the  matter,  Hardy.  You  look 
dreadfully  put  out ;  what  is  it?" 

"What  is  it?"  said  Hardy,  bitterly;  "oh!  nothing  at 
all,  nothing  at  all ;  a  gentle  lesson  to  servitors  as  to  the 
duties  of  their  position  ;  not  pleasant,  perhaps,  for  a  young- 
ster to  swallow,  but  I  ought  to  be  used  to  such  things  at 
any  rate  by  this  time.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  seeming 
put  out." 

"  Do  tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  Tom.  "  I'm  sure  I  am 
very  sorry  for  any  thing  which  annoys  you." 

"  I  believe  you  are,"  said  Hardy,  looking  at  him,  "  and 
I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  it.  What  do  you  think  of 
that  fellow  Chanter's  offering  Smith,  the  junior  servitor,  a 
boy  just  come  up,  a  bribe  of  ten  pounds  to  prick  him  in  at 
chapel  when  he  isn't  there  ?  " 

"  The  dirty  blackguard,"  said  Tom ;  "  by  Jove  he  ought 
to  be  cut.  He  will  be  cut,  wont  he  ?  You  don't  mean 
that  he  really  did  offer  him  the  money?" 

"  I  do,"  said  Hardy ;  "  and  the  poor  little  fellow  came 
here  after  hall  to  ask  me  what  he  should  do,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes." 

"  Chanter  ought  to  be  horsewhipped  in  quad,"  said  Tom. 
"  I  will  go  and  call  on  Smith  directly.  What  did  you 
do?" 

"  Why,  as  soon  as  I  could  master  myself  enough  not 
to  lay  hands  on  him,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  went  across  to  his 
rooms,  where  he  was  entertaining  a  select  party,  and  just 
gave  him  his  choice  between  writing  an  abject  apology 
then  and  there,  to  my  dictation,  or  having  the  whole  busi- 
ness laid  before  the  principal  to-morrow  morning.  He 
chose  the  former  alternative,  and  I  made  him  write  such 
ft  letter  as  I  don't  think  he'will  forget  in  a  hurry  " 

"  That's  good  "  said  Tom  ;  "  but  he  ought  to  have  beeu 


TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD.  101 

horsewhipped,  too.  It  makes  one's  fingers  itch  to  think 
of  it.     However,  Smith's  all  right  now." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Hardy,  bitterly.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  call '  all  right.'  Probably  the  boy's  self-respect  is 
hurt  for  life.  You  can't  salve  over  this  sort  of  thing  with 
an  apology  plaster." 

"  Well,  I  hope  it  isn't  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Tom. 

"  Wait  till  you've  tried  it  yourself,"  said  Hardy.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is,  one.  or  two  tilings  of  this  sort — and 
I've  seen  many  more  than  that  in  my  time  —  sink  down 
into  you,  and  leave  marks  like  a  red-hot  iron." 

"But,  Hardy,  now,  really,  did  you  ever  know  a  bribe 
offered  before  ?  "  said  Tom. 

Hardy  thought  for  a  moment.  ~"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  can't 
say  that  I  have ;  but  things  as  bad,  or  nearly  as  bad, 
often."  He  paused  a  minute,  and  then  went  on  :  "  I  tell 
you,  if  it  were  not  for  my  dear  old  father,  who  would 
break  his  heart  over  it,  I  would  cut  the  whole  concern 
to-morrow.  I've  been  near  doing  it  twenty  times,  and 
enlisting  in  a  good  regiment." 

"  Would  it  be  any  better  there,  though  ? "  said  Tom, 
gently,  for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  a  magazine. 

"  Better !  yes,  it  must  be  better,"  said  Hardy ;  "  at  any 
rate,  the  youngsters  there  are  marchers  and  fighters ;  be- 
sides, one  would  be  in  the  ranks  and  know  one's  place. 
Here  one  is  by  way  of  being  a  gentleman  —  God  save 
the  mark !  A  young  officer,  be  he  never  such  a  fop  or 
profligate,  must  take  his  ^urn  at  guard,  and  carry  his  life 
in  his  hand  all  over  the  world,  wherever  he  is  sent,  or  he 
has  to  leave  the  service.  Service !  yes,  that's  the  word ; 
that's  what  makes  every  young  red-coat  respectable,  though 
he  mayn't  think  it.  He  is  serving  his  queen,  his  country 
• — the  Devil,  too,  perhaps  —  very  likely^ — but  still  the 
other  in  some  sort.  He  is  bound  to  it,  sworn  to  it,  must 
9* 


102  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

do  it,  more  or  less.  But  a  youngster  up  here,  with  health, 
strength,  and  heaps  of  money,  bound  to  no  earthly  ser- 
vice, and  choosing  that  of  the  Devil  and  his  own  lusts,  be- 
cause some  service  or  other  he  must  have  —  I  want  to 
know  where  else  under  the  sun  you  can  see  such  a  sight 
as  that?" 

Tom  mumbled  something  to  the  effect  that  it  was  by 
no  means  necessary  that  men  at  Oxford,  either  rich  or 
poor,  need  embark  in  the  service  which  he  had  alluded  to ; 
which  remark,  however,  only  seemed  to  add  fuel  to  the 
fire ;  for  Hardy  now  rose  from  his  chair  and  began  strid- 
ing up  and  down  the  room,  his  right  arm  behind  his  back, 
the  hand  gripping  his  left  elbow,  his  left  hand  brought 
round  in  front  close  to  his  body,  and  holding  the  bowl  of 
his  pipe,  from  which  he  was  blowing  off  clouds  in  puffs, 
like  an  engine  just  starting  with  a  heavy  train.  The  at- 
titude was  one  of  a  man  painfully  trying  to  curb  himself. 
His  eyes  burnt  like  coals  under  his  deep  brows.  The  man 
altogether  looked  awful,  and  Tom  felt  particularly  uncom- 
fortable and  puzzled.  After  a  turn  or  two,  Hardy  burst 
out  again :  — 

"  And  who  are  they,  I  should  like  to  know,  these  fel- 
lows who  dare  to  offer  bribes  to  gentlemen?  How  do 
they  live  ?  What  do  they  do  for  themselves  or  for  this 
university  ?  By  Heaven !  they  are  ruining  themselves 
body  and  soul,  and  making  this  place,  which  was  meant 
for  the  training  of  learned  and  brave  and  righteous  Eng- 
lishmen, a  lie  and  a  snare.  An$  who  tries  to  stop  them  ? 
Here  and  there  a  don  is  doing  his  work  like  a  man ;  the 
rest  are  either  washing  their  hands  of  the  business,  and 
spending  their  time  in  looking  after  those  who  don't  want 
looking  after,  and  cramming  those  who  would  be  better 
without  the  cramming,  or  else  standing  by,  cap  in  hand, 
and  shouting,  <  O  young  men  of  large  fortune  and  great 


TOM    DROWN    AT    OXFORD.  103 

connections !  you  future  dispensers  of  the  good  things  of 
this  realm !  come  to  our  colleges,  and  all  shall  be  made 
pleasant ! '  and  the  shout  is  taken  up  by  undergraduates, 
and  tradesmen,  and  horse-dealers,  and  cricket-cads,  and 
dog-fanciers,  '  Come  to  us,  and  us,  and  us,  and  we  will  be 
your  toadies  ! '  Let  them,  let  them  toady  and  cringe  to 
their  precious  idols,  till  they  bring  this  noble  old  place 
down  about  their  ears.  Down  it  will  come,  down  it  must 
come,  for  down  it  ought  to  come,  if  it  can  find  nothing 
better  to  worship  than  rank,  money,  and  intellect.  But 
to  live  in  the  place  and  love  it,  too,  and  see  all  this  going 
on,  and  groan  and  writhe  under  it,  and  not  be  able — " 

At  this  point  in  his  speech,  Hardy  came  to  the  turning- 
point  in  his  march  at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  just  op- 
posite his  crockery  cupboard ;  but,  instead  of  turning  as 
usual,  he  paused,  let  go  the  hold  on  his  left  elbow,  poised 
himself  for  a  moment  to  get  a  purchase,  and  then  dashed 
his  right  fist  full  against  one  of  the  panels.  Crash  went 
the  slight  deal  boards,  as  if  struck  with  a  sledge-hammer, 
and  crash  went  glass  and  crockery  behind.  Tom  jumped 
to  his  feet ;  in  doubt  whether  an  assault  on  him  would  not 
follow ;  but  the  fit  was  over,  and  Hardy  looked  round  at 
him,  with  a  rueful  and  deprecating  face.  For  a  moment 
Tom  tried  to  look  solemn  and  heroic,  as  befitted  the  occa- 
sion ;  but,  somehow,  the  sudden  contrast  flashed  on  him, 
and  sent  him  off,  before  he  could  think  about  it,  into  a 
roar  of  laughter,  ending  in  a  violent  fit  of  coughing ;  for 
in  his  excitement  he  had  swallowed  a  mouthful  of  smpVe. 
Hardy,  after  holding  out  for  a  moment,  gave  in  to  the 
humor  of  the  thing,  and  the  appealing  look  passed  into  a 
smile,  and  the  smile  into  a  laugh,  as  he  turned  towards 
his  damaged  cupboard,  and  began  opening  it  carefully  in 
a  legitimates  manner. 


104  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"I  say,  old  fellow,''  said  Tom,  coming  up,  "I  shoa.d 
think  you  must  find  it  an  expensive  amusement ;  do  you 
often  walk  into  your  cupboards  like  that  ?  " 

"  You  see,  Brown,  I'm  naturally  a  man  of  a  very  quick 
temper." 

"So  it  seems,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  doesn't  it  hurt  your 
knuckles?  I  should  have  something  softer  put  up  for  me 
if  I  were  you  ;  your  bolster,  with  a  velvet  cap  on  it,  or  a 
doctor  of  divinity's  gown  now." 

"  You  be  hanged,"  said  Hardy,  as  he  disengaged  the 
last  splinter,  and  gently  opened  the  ill-used  cupboard 
door.  "  Oh,  thunder  and  turf,  look  here  !"  he  went  on,  as 
the  state  of  affairs  inside  disclosed  itself  to  his  view; 
"  how  many  times  have  I  told  that  thief  George  never  to 
put  any  thing  on  this  side  of  my  cupboard !  Xwo  tum- 
blers smashed  to  bits,  and  I've  only  four  in  the  world ! 
Lucky  we'd  got  those  two  out  on  the  table." 

"  And  here's  a  great  piece  out  of  the  sugar  basin,  you 
see,"  said  Tom,  holding  up  the  broken  article  ;  "  and,  let 
me  see,  one  cup,  and  three  saucers  gone  to  glory." 

"  Well,  it's  lucky  it's  no  worse,"  said  Hardy,  peering 
over  his  shoulder ;  "  I  had  a  lot  of  odd  saucers,  and  there's 
enough  left  to  last  my  time.  Never  mind  the  smash,  let's 
sit  down  again  and  be  reasonable." 

Tom  sat  down  in  high  good-humor.  He  felt  himself 
more  on  an  equality  with  his  host  than  he  had  done  be- 
fore, and  even  thought  he  might  venture  on  a  little  mild 
expostulation  or  lecturing.  But  while  he  was  considering 
how  to  improve  the  occasion,  Hardy  began  himself. 

"I  shouldn't  get  so  furious,  Brown,  if  I  didn't  care 
about  the  place  so  much.  I  can't  bear  to  think  cf  it  as 
a  sort  of  learning  machine  in  which  I  am  to  grind  for 
three  yrars  to  get  certain  degrees  which  I  want.     No — « 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  105 

this  place,  and  Cambridge,  and  our  great  schools  are  the 
heart  of  dear  old  England.  Did  you  ever  read  Secre- 
tary Cook's  address  to  the  vice-chancellor,  doctors,  etc., 
in  163G — more  critical  times,  perhaps,  even  than  ours? 
No  ?  Well  listen,  then ; "  and  he  went  to  his  bookcase, 
took  down  a  book,  and  read,  " '  The  very  truth  is,  that  all 
wise  princes  respect  the  welfare  of  their  estates,  and  con- 
sider that  schools  and  universities  are  (as  in  the  body) 
the  noble  and  vital  parts,  which,  being  vigorous  and  sound, 
send  good  blood  and  active  spirits  into  the  veins  and  ar- 
teries, which  cause  health  and  strength ;  or,  if  feeble  or 
ill-affected,  corrupt  all  the  vital  parts ;  whereupon  grow 
diseases,  and  in  the  end,  death  itself.'  A  low  standard  up 
here  for  ten  years  may  corrupt  half  the  parishes  in  the 
kingdom." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Tom,    but  —  " 

"Yes ;  and  so  one  has  a  right  to  be  jealous  for  Oxford. 
Every  Englishman  ought  to  be." 

"  But  I  really  think,  Hardy,  that  you're  unreasonable," 
said  Tom,  who  had  no  mind  to  be  done  out  of  his  chance 
of  lecturing  his  host. 

"I'm  very- quick-tempered,"  said  Hardy,  "as  I  told  you 
just  now." 

"  But  you're  not  fair  on  the  fast  set  up  here.  They 
can't  help  being  rich  men,  after  all." 

"No;  so  one  oughtn't  to  expect  them  to  be  going 
through  the  eyes  of  needles,  I  suppose.  But  do  you 
mean  to  say  you  ever  heard  of  a  more  dirty  blackguard 
business  than  this?"  said  Hardy;  "he  ought  to  be  ex- 
pelled the  university." 

"  I  admit  that,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  it  was  only  one  of 
them,  you  know.  I  don't  believe  there's  another  man  in 
the  set  who  would  have  done  it." 


106  TOM  BROTVN  AT  OXFORD. 

"  "Well,  I  hope  not,"  said  Hardy ;  "  I  may  be  hard  on 
them  —  as  you  say,  they  can't  help  being  rich.  But  now, 
I  don't  want  you  to  think  me  a  violent,  one-sided  fanatic ; 
eliall  I  tell  you  some  of  my  experiences  up  hei'e — some 
passages  from  the  life  of  a  servitor  ?  " 

"  Do, "  said  Tom ;  "  I  should  like  nothing  so  welLw 


109 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

hardy's  history. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  it  will  put  my  readers  in  a  bet* 
ter  position  for  understanding  my  story,  if  I  take  this 
early  opportunity  of  making  them  better  acquainted  with 
Hardy.  So  I  have  put  together  at  once  a  connected 
sketch  of  his  life,  which  Tom  picked  up  bit  by  bit  from 
him,  on  the  night  of  the  broken  cupboard  and  afterwards, 
as  their  friendship  went  on  ripening ;  and  as  it  is  always 
best  to  let  a  man  speak  for  himself,  Hardy  shall  tell  fiis 
own  tale,  without  comment.  So  let  us  fancy  ourselves  in 
the  room  described  in  Chapter  V.,  sitting  in  a  Windsor 
chair,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire  to  Hardy,  and  bent 
with  our  whole  "wills  on  knowing,  understanding,  throw- 
ing ourselves  into  the  life  of,  and  sympathizing  with,  the 
strange  granite  block  of  humanity,  who  sits  in  the  fellow 
"Windsor  chair,  and  speaks  as  follows :  — 

"  My  father  is  an  old  commander  in  the  Royal  Navy. 
He  was  a  second  cousin  of  Nelson's  Hardy,  and  that, 
I  believe,  was  what  led  him  into  the  navy,  for  he  had 
no  interest  whatever  of  his  own.  It  was  a  visit  which 
Nelson's  Hardy,  then  a  young  lieutenant,  paid  to  his 
relative,  my  grandfather,  wThich  decided  my  father,  he  has 
told  me ;  but  he  always  had  a  strong  bent  to  the  sea, 
though  he  was  a  boy  of  very  studious  habits. 

"  However,  those  were  times  when  brave  men  who 
knew  and  loved  their  profession  couldn't  be  overlooked, 
and  my  dear  old  father  fought  his  way  up  step  by  step  — 


106 


TOM    DROWN   AT    OXFORD. 


not  very  fast  certainly,  but  still  fast  enough  to  keep  hiro 
in  heart  about  his  chances  in  life.  I  could  show  you  the 
accounts  of  some  of  the  affairs  he  was  in  in  James'  His- 
tory, which  you  see  up  on  my  shelf  there,  or  I  could  tell 
them  you  myself;  but  I  hope  some  day  you  will  know 
him,  and  then  you  will  hear  them  in  perfection. 

"My  father  was  made  commander  towards  the  end  of 
the  war,  and  got  a  ship  in  which  he  sailed  with  a  convoy 
of  merchantmen  from  Bristol.  It  was  the  last  voyage 
he  ever  made  in  active  service ;  but  the  admiralty  were 
so  well  satisfied  with  his  conduct  in  it  that  they  kept  hi* 
ship  in  commission  two  years  after  peace  was  declared. 
And  well  they  might  be,  for  in  the  Spanish  main  he  fought 
an  action  which  lasted,  on  and  off,  for  two  days,  with  a 
French  sloop-of-war,  and  a  privateer,  which  he  always 
thought  was  an  American,  either  of  which  ought  to  have 
been  a  match  for  him.  But  he  had  been  with  Vincent 
in  the  Arrow,  and  was  not  likely  to  think  much  of  such 
small  odds  as  that.  At  any  rate,  he  beat  them  off,  and 
not  a  prize  could  either  of  them  make  out  of  his  convoy, 
though  I  believe  his  ship  was*  never  fit  for  any  thing  after- 
wards, and  was  broken  up  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of  com- 
mission. We  have  got  her  compasses,  and  the  old  flag 
which  flew  at  the  peak  through  the  whole  voyage,  at  home 
now.  It  was  my  father's  own  flag,  and  his  fancy  to  have 
it  always  flying.  More  than  half  the  men  were  killed,  or 
badly  hit  —  the  dear  old  father  amongst  the  rest.  A  ball 
took  off  part  of  his  knee-cap,  and  he  had  to  fight  the  last 
six  hours  of  the  action  sitting  in  a  chair  on  the  quarter- 
deck ;  but  he  says  it  made  the  men  fight  better  than  when 
he  was  about  among  them,  seeing  him  sitting  there  suck- 
ing oranges. 

"  Well,  he  came  home  with  a  stiff  leg.  The  Bristol 
merchants  gave  him  the  freedom  of  the  city  in  a  gold  box, 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  109 

and  a  splendidly  mounted  sword  with  an  inscription  on 
the  blade,  which  hangs  over  the  mantelpiece  at  home. 
When  I  first  left  home,  I  asked  him  to  give  me  his  old 
service  sword,  which  used  to  hang  by  the  other,  and  he 
gave  it  me  at  once,  though  I  was  only  a  lad  of  seventeen, 
as  he  would  give  me  his  right  eye,  dear  old  father,  which 
is  the  only  one  he  has  now  ;  the  other  he  lost  from  a  cut- 
lass-wound in  a  boarding  party.  There  it  hangs,,  and 
those  arc  his  epaulettes  in  the  tin  case.  They  used  to 
lie  under  my  pillow  before  I  had  a  room  of  my  own,  and 
many  a  cowardly,  down-hearted  fit  have  they  helped  to 
pull  me  through,  Brown  ;  and  many  a  mean  act  have 
they  helped  to  hinder  me  from  doing.  There  they  are 
always  ;  and  the  sight  of  them  brings  home  the  dear  old 
man  to  me  as  nothing  else  does,  hardly  even  his  letters. 
I  must  be  a  great  scoundrel  to  go  very  wrong  with  such  a 
father. 

"  Let's  see  —  where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes !  I  remember. 
Well,  my  father  got  his'  box  and  sword,  and  some  very 
handsome  letters  from  several  great  men.  We  have 
them  all  in  a  book  at  home,  and  I  know  them  by  heart. 
The  ones  he  values  most  are  from  Collingwood,  and 
his  old  captain,  Vincent,  and  from  his  cousin,  Nelson's 
Hardy,  who  didn't  come  off  much  better  himself  after  the 
war  than  my  father  ;  for  my  poor  old  father  never  got 
another  ship.  For  some  time  he  went  up  every  year  to 
London,  and  was  always,  he  says,  very  kindly  received 
by  the  people  in  power,  and  often  dined  with  one  and 
another  lord  of  the  admiralty  who  had  been  an  old 
messmate.  But  he  was  longing  for  employment ;  and  it 
used  to  prey  on  him  while  he  was  in  his  prime  to  feel 
year  after  year  slipping  away,  and  he  still  without  a  ship. 
But  why  should  I  abuse  people,  and  think  it  hard  when 
he  doesn't  ?  '  You  see,  Jack,'  he  said  to  me  the  last  time 
10 


110  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

we  spoke  about  it,  'after  all,  I  was  a  battered  old  hulkt 
lame  and  half  blind.  So  was  Nelson,  you'll  say ;  but 
every  man  isn't  a  Nelson,  iny  boy.  And  though  I  might 
think  I  could  con  or  fight  a  ship  as  well  as  ever,  I  can't 
say  other  folk  who  didn't  know  me  were  wrong  for  not 
agreeing  with  me.  "Would  you  now,  Jack,  appoint  a  lame 
and  blind  man  to  command  your  ship,  if  you  had  one  ? ' 
But  he  left  off  applying  for  work  soon  after  he  was  fifty 
(I  just  remember  the  time),  for  he  began  to  doubt 
then  whether  he  was  quite  so  fit  to  command  a  small 
vessel  as  a  younger  man  ;  and,  though  he  had  a  much 
better  chance  after  that  of  getting  a  ship  (for  William  IV. 
came  to  the  throne,  who  knew  all  about  him),  he  never 
went  near  the  admiralty  again.  *  God  forbid,'  he  said, 
*  that  his  majesty  should  take  me  if  there's  a  better  man 
to  be  had.' 

"  But  I  have  forgotten  to  tell  you  how  I  came  into  the 
world,  and  am  telling  you  my  father's  story  instead  of  my 
own.  You  seem  to  like  hearing  about  it  though,  and 
you  can't  understand  one  without  the  other.  However, 
when  my  father  was  made  commander,  he  married,  and 
bought,  with  his  prize  money  and  savings,  a  cottage  and 
piece  of  land,  in  a  village  on  the  south  coast,  where  he 
left  his  wife  when  he  went  on  his  last  voyage.  They  had 
waited  some  years,  for  neither  of  them  had  any  money ; 
but  there  never  were  two  people  who  wanted  it  le§s,  or 
did  more  good  without  it  to  all  who  came  near  them. 
They  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  too,  for  my  father  had. 
to  go  on  half-pay ;  and  a  commander's  half-pay  isn't  \ 
much  to  live  upon  and  keep  a  family.  For  they  had  a 
family ;  three,  besides  me ;  but  they  are  all  gone.  And 
my  mother,  too ;  she  died  when  I  was  quite  a  boy,  and 
left  him  and  me  alone';  and  since  then  I  have  never 
known  what  a  woman's  love  is,  for  I  have  no  near  rela* 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  Ill 

tions ;  and  a  man  with  such  prospects  as  mine  had  better 
keep  down  all  —  however,  there's  no  need  to  go  into  my 
notions ;  I  wont  wander  any  more  if  I  can  help  it. 

"  I  know  my  father  was  very  poor  when  my  mother 
died,  and  I  think  (though  he  never  told  me  so)  that  he 
had  mortgaged  our  cottage,  and  was  very  near  having  to 
sell  it  at  one  time.  The  expenses  of  my  mother's  illness 
had  been  very  heavy ;  I  know  a  good  deal  of  the  best 
furniture  was  sold  —  all,  indeed,  except  a  handsome  arm- 
chair, and  a  little  work-table  of  my  mother's.  She  used 
to  sit  in  the  chair,  in  her  last  illness,  on  our  lawn,  and 
watch  the  sunsets.  And  he  sat  by  her,  and  watched  her, 
and  sometimes  read  the  Bible  to  her ;  while  I  played 
about  with  a  big  black  dog  we.  had  then,  named  Vincent, 
after  my  father's  old  captain ;  or  with  Burt,  his  old  boat- 
swain, who  came  with  his  wife  to  live  with  my  father  be- 
fore I  can  recollect,  and  lives  with  us  still.  He  did  every 
thing  in  the  garden  and  about  the  house  ;  and  in  the 
house,  too,  when  his  wife  was  ill,  for  he  can  turn  his  hand 
to  any  thing,  like. most  old  salts.  It  was  he  who  rigged. 
up  the  mast  and  weathercock  on  the  lawn,  and  used  to 
let  me  run  up  the  old  flag  on  Sundays,  and  on  my  father's 
wedding-day,  and  on  the  anniversary  of  his  action,  and 
of  Vincent's  action  in  the  Arrow. 

"  After  my  mother's  death  my  father  sent  away  all  the 
servants,  for  the  boatswain  and  his  wife  are  more  like 
friends.  I  was  wrong  to  say  that  no  woman  has  loved 
me  since  my  mother's  death,  for  I  believe  dear  old  Nanny 
loves  me  as  if  I  were  her  own  child.  My  father,  after 
this,  used  to  sit  silent  for  hours  together,  doing  nothing 
but  look  over  the  sea;  but,  except  for  that,  was  not 
much  changed.  After  a  short  time  he  took  to  teaching 
me  to  read,  and  from  that  time  I  never  was  away  from 
him  for  an  hour,  except  when  I  was  asleep,  until  I  went 
out  into  the  world. 


112  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  As  I  told  you,  my  father  was  naturally  fond  of  study. 
He  had  kept  up  the  little  Latin  he  had  learnt  as  a  boy, 
and  had  always  been  reading  whatever  he  could  lay  his 
hands  on  ;  so  that  I  couldn't  have  had  a  better  tutor 
They  were  no  lessons  to  me,  particularly  the  geography 
ones ;  for  there  was  no  part  of  the  world's  sea-coast  that* 
he  did  not  know,  and  could  tell  me  what  it  and  the  people 
who  lived  there  were  like;  and  often  when  Burt  hap- 
pened to  come  in  at  such  times,  and  heard  what  my  father 
was  talking  about,  he  would  give  us  some  of  his  adven- 
tures and  ideas  of  geography,  which  were  very  queer  in- 
deed. 

"  When  I  was  nearly  ten,  a  new  vicar  came.  He  was 
about  my  father's  age,  and  a  widower,  like  him ;  only  he 
had  no  child.  Like  him,  too,  he  had  no  private  fortune, 
and  the  living  is  a  very  poor  one.  He  soon  became  very 
intimate  with  us,  and  made  my  father  his  church-warden  ; 
and,  after  being  present  at  some  of  our  lessons,  volun- 
teered to  teach  me  Greek,  which,  he  said,  it  was  time  I 
should  begin  to  learn.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  my 
father,  who  had  bought  a  Greek  grammar  and  dictionary, 
and  a  delectus,  some  time  before  ;  and  I  could  see  him 
often,  dear  old  father,  With  his  glass  in  his  eye,  puzzling 
away  over  them  when  I  was  playing  or  reading  Cook's 
voyages,  for  it  had  grown  up  to  be  the  wish  of  his  heart 
that  I  should  bo  a  scholar,  and  should  go  into  orders.  So 
he  was  going  to  teach  me  Greek  himself,  for  there  was 
no  one  in  the  parish  except  the  vicar  who  knew  a  word 
of  any  thing  but  English  —  so  that  he  could  not  have  got 
me  a  tutor,  and  the  thought  of  sending  me  to  school  had 
never  crossed  his  mind,  even  if  he  could  have  afforded  to 
do  either.  My  father  only  sat  by  at  the  Greek  lessons, 
and  took  no  part ;  but  first  he  began  to  put  in  a  word  here 
and  there,  and  then  would  repeat  words   and  sentences 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  113 

himself,  and  look  over  my  book  while  I  construed,  and 
.very  soon  waa  just  as  regular  a  pupil  of  the  vicar  as  I. 

"  The  vicar  was  for  the  most  part  very  proud  of  hia 
pupils,  and  the  kindest  of  masters  ;  but  every  now  and 
then  he  used  to  be  hard  on  my  father,  which  made  me 
furious,  though  he  never  seemed  to  mind  it.  I  used  to 
make  mistakes  on  purpose  at  those  times  to  show  that  I 
was  worse  than  he,  at  any  rate.  But  this  only  happened 
after  we  had  had  a  political  discussion  at  dinner ;  for  we 
dined  at  three,  and  took  to  our  Greek  afterwards,  to  suit 
the  vicar's  time,  who  was  generally  a  guest.  My  father 
is  a  Tory,  of  course,  as  you  may  guess,  and  the  vicar 
was  a  Liberal,  of  a  very,  mild  sort,  as  I  have  since 
thought ;  <  a  Whig  of  '88, '  he  used  to  call  himself.  But 
he  was  in  favor  of  the  Reform  Bill,  which  was  enough 
for  my  father,  who  lectured  him  about  loyalty,  and  open- 
ing the  floodgates  to  revolution ;  and  used  to  call  up  old 
Burt  from  the  kitchen,  where  he  was  smoking  his  pipe, 
and  ask  him  what  he  used  to  think  of  the  Radicals  on 
board  ship  ;  and  Burt's  regular  reply  was, — 

"  '  Skulks,  yer  honor,  regular  skulks.  I  wouldn't  give 
the  twist  of  a  fiddler's  elbow  for  all  the  lot  of  'em  as  ever 
pretended  to  handle  a  swab,  or  hand  a  topsail.' 

"  The  vicar  always  tried  to  argue,  but,  as  Burt  and 
I  were  the  only  audience,  my  father  was  always  trium- 
phant*; only  he  took  it  out  of  us  afterwards  at  the  Greek. 
Often  I  used  to  think,  when  they  were  reading  history, 
and  talking  about  the  characters,  that  my  father  wTas  much 
the  most  liberal  of  the  two. 

"About  this  time  he  bought  a  small,  half-decked  boat  of 
ten  tons,  for  he  and  Burt  agreed  that  I  ought  to  learn  to 
handle  a  boat,  although  I  was  not  to  go  to  sea ;  and  when 
they  got  the  vicar  in  the  boat  on  the  summer  evenings 
(for  he  was  always  ready  for  a  sail,  though  ha-  was  a  very 
10* 


114  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

bad  sailor),  I  believe  they  used  to  steer  as  near  the  wind 
as  possible,  and  get  into  short  chopping  seas  on  ^purpose. 
But  I  don't  think  he  was  ever  frightened,  though  he  used 
sometimes  to  be  very  ill. 

"  And  so  I  went  on,  learning  all  I  could  from  my  father, 
and  the  vicar,  and  old  Burt,  till  I  was  sixteen.  By  that 
time  I  had  begun  to  think  for  myself;  and  I  had  made 
up  my  mind  that  it  was  ti^e  I  should  do  something.  No 
boy  ever  wanted  to  leave  home  less,  I  believe ;  but  I  saw 
that  I  must  make  a  move  if  I  avus  ever  to  be  what  my  father 
wished  me  to  be.  So  I  spoke  to  the  vicar,  and  he  quite 
agreed  with  me,  and  made  inquiries  amongst  his  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  so,  before  I  was  seventeen,  I  was  offered  the 
place  of  under-master  in  a  commercial  school,  about 
twenty  miles  from  home.  The  vicar  brought  the  offer, 
and  my  father  was  very  angry  at  first ;  but  we  talked  him 
aver,  and  so  I  took  the  situation. 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  I  did,  although  there  were  many 
drawbacks.  The  salary  was  £35  a  year,  and  for  that  I 
had  to  drill  all  the  boys  in  English,  and  arithmetic,  and 
Latin,  and  to  teach  the  Greek  grammar  to  the  five  or  six 
who  paid  extra  to  learn  it.  Out  of  school  I  had  to  be  al- 
ways with  them,  and  was  responsible  for  the  discipline. 
It  was  weary  work  very  often,  and  what  seemed  the  worst 
part  of  it,  at  the  time,  to  me  was  the  trade  spirit  which 
leavened  the  whole  of  the  establishment.  The  master 
and  owner  of  the  school,  who  was  a  keen,  vulgar  man, 
but  always  civil  enough  to  me,  thought  of  nothing  but 
what  would  pay.  And  this  seemed  to  be  what  filled  the 
school.  Fathers  sent  their  boys,  because  the  place  was 
so  practical,  and  nothing  was  taught  (except  as  extras), 
which  was  not  to  be  of  so-called  real  use  to  the  boys  in 
the  world.  "We  had  our  work  quite  clearly  laid  down  for 
us  ;  and  it  was,  not  to  put  the  boys  in  the  way  of  getting 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  115 

real  knowledge  or  understanding,  or  any  of  the  tilings 
Solomon  talks  about ;  but  to  put  them  in  the  way  of  get- 
ting on. 

"  I  spent  three  years  at  that  school,  and  in  that  time,  I 
grounded  myself  pretty  wrell  in  Latin  and  Greek  —  bet- 
ter, I  believe,  than  I  should  have  done  if  I  had  been  at  a 
firstrate  school  myself;  and  I  hope  I  did  the  boys  some 
good,  and  taught  some  of  them  ttoat  cunning  was  not  the 
best  quality  to  start  in  life  with.  And  I  was  not  often 
very  unhappy,  for  I  could  always  look  forward  to  my 
holidays  with  my  father. 

"  However,  I  own  that  I  never  was  better  pleased  than 
one  Christmas,  when  the  vicar  came  over  to  our  cottage, 
and  brought  with  him  a  letter  from  the  principal  of  St. 
Ambrose  College,  Oxford,  appointing  me  to  a  servitor- 
ship.  My  father  was  even  more  delighted  than  I,  and 
that  evening  produced  a  bottle  of  old  rum,  which  was  part 
of  his  ship's  stock,  and  had  gone  all  through  his  action, 
and  been  in  his  cellar  ever  since.  And  we  three  in  the 
parlor,  and  old  Burt  and  his  wife  in  the  kitchen,  finished 
it  that  night ;  the  boatswain,  I  must  own,  taking  the  lion's 
share.  The  vicar  took  occasion,  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  to  hint  that  it  was  only  poor  men  who  took  these 
places  at  the  university  ;  and  that  I  might  find  some  in- 
convenience, and  suffer  some  annoyance,  by  not  being 
kexactly  in  the  same  position  as  other  men.  But  my  dear 
Fold  father  would  not  hear  of  it ;  I  was  now  going  to  be 
amongst  the  very  pick  of  English  gentlemen  —  what 
could  it  matter  whether  I  had  money  or  not  ?  That  was 
the  last  thing  which  real  gentlemen  thought  of.  Besides, 
why  was  I  to  be  so  very  poor?  he  should  be  able  to  allow 
me  whatever  would  be  necessary  to  make  me  comfortable. 
*  But,  Jack,'  he  said,  suddenly,  later  in  the  evening,  '  one 
meets   low  fellows  everywhere.     You  have  met  them,  I 


116  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

-  know,  oftefi  at  that  confounded  school,  and  will  meet  them 
again.  Never  you  be  ashamed  of  your  poverty,  my  boy.' 
I  promised  readily  enough,  for  I  didn't  think  I  could  be 
more  tried  in  that  way  than  I  had  been  already.  I  had 
lived  for  three  years  amongst  people  whose  class  notori- 
ously measured  all  things  by  a  money  standard  ;  now  that 
was  all  over,  I  thought.  It's  easy  making  promises  in  the 
dark.  The  vicar,  howe^r,  would  not  let  the  matter  rest ; 
so  we  resolved  ourselves  into  a  committee  of  ways  and 
means,  and  my  father  engaged  to  lay  before  us  an  exact 
statement  of  his  affairs  next  day.  I  went  to  the  door 
with  the  vicar,  and  he  told  me  to  come  and  see  him  in 
the  morning. 

"  I  half  guessed  what  he  wanted  to  see  me  for.  He 
knew  all  my  father's  affairs  perfectly  well,  and  wished  to 
prepare  me  for  what  was  to  come  in  the  evening.  '  Your 
father/  he  said,  '  is  one  of  the  most  liberal  men  I  have 
ever  met ;  he  is  almost  the  only  person  who  gives  any- 
thing to  the  schools  and  other  charities  in  this  parish,  and 
he  gives  to  the  utmost.  You  would  not  wish  him,  I  know, 
to  cut  off  these  gifts,  which  brjng  the  highest  reward  with 
them,  when  they  are  made  in  the  spirit  in  which  he  makes 
them.  Then  he  is  getting  old,  and  you  would  never  like 
him  to  deny  himself  the  comforts  (and  few  enough  they 
are)  which  he  is  used  to.  He  has  nothing  but  his  half-  _ 
pay,  £ — ,  a  year  to  live  on  ;  and  out  of  that  he  pays  £—  m 
a  year  for  insurance  ;  for  he  has  insured  his  life,  that  you  ^ 
may  have  something  besides  the  cottage  and  land  when 
he  dies.  I  only  tell  you  this,  that  you  ma}'  know  the  facts 
beforehand.  I  am  sure  you  would  never  take  a  penny 
from  him  if  you  could  help  it.  But  he  wont  be  happy 
unless  he  makes  you  some  allowance  ;  and  he  can  do  it 
without  crippling  himself.  He  has  been  paying  off  an 
old  mortgage  on  his'  property  here  for  many  years,  by  in- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  117 

gtalments  of  £40  a  year,  and  the  last  waMsaid  last 
Michaelmas,  so  that  it  will  not  inconvenience  him  to 
make  you  that  allowance.  Now  you  will  not  be  able  to 
live  properly  upon  that  up  at  Oxford,  even  as  a  servitor. 
I  speak  to  you  now,  my  dear  Jack,  as  your  oldest  friend 
(except  Burt),  and  you  must  allow  me  the  privilege  of  an 
old  friend.  I  have  more  than  I  want,  and  I  propose  to* 
make  up  your  allowance  at  Oxford  to  £80  a  year,  and  upon 
that  I  think  you  may  manage  to  get  on.  Now,  it  will  not 
be  quite  candid,  but  I  think,  under  the  circumstances,  we 
shall  be  justified  in  representing  to  your  father  that  £40 
a  year  will  be  ample  for  him  to  allow  you.  You  see 
what  I  mean  ? ' 

"  I  remember  almost  word  for  word  what  the  vicar  said, 
for  it  is  not  often  in  one's  life  that  one  meets  with  this 
sort  of  friend.  At  first,  I  thanked  him,  but  refused  to  take 
any  thing  from  him.  I  had  saved  enough,  I  said,  to  carry 
me  through  Oxford.  But  he  would  not  be  put  off;  and 
I  found  that  his  heart  was  as  much  set  on  making  me  an 
allowance  himself  as  on  saving  my  father.  So  I  agreed 
to  take  £25  a  year  from  him. 

"When  we  met  again  in  the  evening  to  hear  my  father's 
statement,  it  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  the  dear  old 
man  with  his  spectacles  on,  and  his  papers  before  him, 
proving  in  some  wonderful  way,  and  without  making  the 
least  misstatement,  that  he  could  easily  allow  me  at  least 
£80  or  £100  a  year.  I  believe  it  cost .  the  vicar  some 
twinges  of  conscience  to  persuade  him  that  all  I  should 
want  would  be  £40  a  year;  and  it  was  very  hard  work, 
but  at  last  we  succeeded,  and  it  was  so  settled.  During 
the  next  three  weeks  the  preparations  for  my  start  occu- 
pied us  all.  The  vicar  looked  out  all  his  old  Classics, 
which  he  insisted  that  I  should  take.  There  they  stand 
on  that  middle  shelf —  all  well  bound  you  see,  and  many 


118  TOM  BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

of  theni  0R.  college  prizes.  My  father  made  an  expedi* 
tion  to  the  nearest  town,  and  came  back  with  a  large  new 
portmanteau  and  hatbox,  and  the  next  day  the  leading 
tailor  came  over  to  fit  me  out  with  new  clothes.  In  fact, 
if  I  had  not  resisted  stoutly,  I  should  have  come  to  college 
with  half  the  contents  of  the  cottage,  and  Burt  as  a  valet, 
for  the  old  boatswain  was  as  bad  as  the  other  two.  But 
I  compromised  the  matter  with  him  by  accepting  his 
pocket  compass,  and  the  picture  of  the  brig  which  hangs 
there ;  the  two  things,  next  to  his  old  wife,  which  he  val- 
ues, I  believe,  most  in  the  world. 

"  Well  it  is  now  two  years  last  October  since  I  came  to 
Oxford  as  a  servitor ;  so  you  see  I  have  pretty  nearly  fin- 
ished my  time  here.  I  was  more  than  twenty  then — 
much  older,  as  you  know,  than  most  freshmen.  I  dare 
say  it  was  partly  owing  to  the  difference  in  age,  and  partly 
to  the  fact  that  I  knew  no  one  when  1  came  up,  but  mostly 
to  my  own  bad  management  and  odd  temper,  that  I  did 
not  get  on  better  than  I  have  done  with  the  men  here. 
Sometimes  I  think  that  our  college  is  a  bad  specimen,  for 
I  have  made  several  friends  amongst  our  out-college 
men.  At  any  rate,  the  fact  is,  as  you  have  no  doubt  found 
out,  —  and  I  hope  I  haven't  tried  at  all  to  conceal  it, — 
that  I  am  out  of  the  pale,  as  it  were.  In  fact,  with  the 
exception  of  one  of  the  tutors,  and  one  man  who  was  a 
freshman  with  me,  I  do  not  know  a  man  in  college  except 
as  a  mere  speaking  acquaintance. 

"  I  had  been  rather  thrown  off  my  balance,  I  think,  at 
the  change  in  my 'life,  for  at  first  I  made  a  great  fool  of 
myself.  I  had  believed  too  readily  what  my  father  had 
said,  and  thought  that  at  Oxford  I  should  see  no  more  of 
what  I  had  been  used  to.  Here  I  thought  that  the  last 
thing  a  man  would  be  valued  by  would  be  the  length  of 
his  purse,  and  that  no  one  would  look  down,  upon  me  be- 


TOM    BROWN    j^T    OXFORD.  119 

cause  I  performed  some  services  to  the  college,  in  return 
for  my  keep,  instead  of  paying  for  it  in  money. 

"  Yes,  I  made  a  great  fool  of  myself,  no  doubt  of  that ; 
and  what  is  worse,  I  broke  my  promise  to  my  father — I 
often  ivas  ashamed  of  my  poverty,  and  tried  at  first  to  hide 
it,  for  somehow  the  spirit  of  the  place  carried  me  along 
"with  it.  I  couldn't  help  wishing  to  be  thought  of  and 
treated  as  an  equal  by  the  men.  It's  a  very  bitter  thing 
for  a  proud,  shy,  sensitive  fellow,  as  I  am  by  nature,  to 
have  to  bear  the  sort  of  assumption  and  insolence  one 
meets  with.  I  furnished  my  rooms  well,  and  dressed 
well.  Ah  !  you  may  stare  ;  but  this  is  not  the  furniture  I 
started  with ;  I  sold  it  all  when  I  came  to  my  senses,  and 
put  in  this  tumble-down  second-hand  stuff,  and  I  have 
worn  out  my  fine  clothes.  I  know  I'm  not  well  dressed 
now.  (Tom  nodded  ready  acquiescence  to  this  position.) 
Yes,  though  I  still  wince  a  little  now  and  then  —  a  good 
deal  often er  than  I  like  —  I  don't  carry  any  false  colors. 
I  can't  quite  conquer  the  feeling  of  shame  (for  shame  it  is, 
I  am  afraid),  but  at  any  rate,  I  don't  try  to  hide  my  pov- 
erty any  longer,  I  haven't  for  these  eighteen  months.  I 
have  a  grim  sort  of  pleasure  in  pushing  it  in  everybody's 
face.  (Tom  assented  with  a  smile,  remembering  how  ex- 
cessively uncomfortable  Hardy  had  made  him  by  this  lit^ 
tie  peculiarity  the  first  time  he  was  in  his  rooms.)  The 
first  thing  which  opened  my  eyes  a  little  was  the  conduct 
of  the  tradesmen.  My  bills  all  came  in  within  a  week  of 
the  delivery  of  the  furniture  and  clothes ;  some  of  them 
wouldn't  leave  the  things  without  payment.  I  was  very 
angry  and  vexed ;  not  at  the  bills,  for  I  had  my  savings, 
which  were  much  more  than  enough  to  pay  for  every 
thing.  But  I  knew  that  these  same  tradesmen  never 
thought  of  asking  for  payment  under  a  year,  oftener  two, 
from  other  men.     "Well,  it  was  a  lesson.     Credit  for  gen- 


120  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

tlemen-commoners,  ready-money  dealings  with  servitors ! 
I  owe  the  Oxford  tradesmen  much  for  that  lesson.  If 
they  would  only  treat  every  man  who  comes  up  as  a  ser- 
vitor, it  would  save  a  deal  of  misery. 

"  My  cure  was  completed  by  much  higher  folk,  though. 
I  can't  go  through  the  whole  treatment,  but  will  give  you 
a  specimen  or  two  of  the  doses,  giving  precedence  (as  is 
the  way  here)  to  those  administered  by  the  highest  in 
rank.  I  got  them  from  all  sorts  of  people,  but  none  did 
me  more  good  than  the  lords'  pills.  Amongst  other  ways 
of  getting  on,  I  took  to  sparring,  which  was  then  very 
much  in  vogue.  I  am  a  good  hand  at  it,  and  very  fond 
of  it,  so  that  it  wasn't  altogether  flunkeyism,  I'm  glad  to 
think.  In  my  second  term  two  or  three  fighting  men 
came  down  from  London,  and  gave  a  benefit  at  the  weirs. 
I  was  there,  and  set  to  with  one  of  them.  We  were  well 
matched,  and  both  of  us  did  our  very  best ;  and  when  we 
had  had  our  turn  we  drew  down  the  house,  as  they  say. 
Several  young  tufts  and  others  of  the  faster  men  came  up 
to  me  afterwards  and  complimented  me.  They  did  the 
same  by  the  professional,  but  it  didn't  occur  to  me  at  the 
time  that  they  put  us  both  in  the  same  category. 

"  I  am  free  to  own  that  I  was  really  pleased  two  days 
rfifterwards,  when  a  most  elaborate  flunkey  brought  a  card 
to  my  door  inscribed,  '  The  Viscount  Philippine,  Ch.  Ch., 
at  home  to-night,  eight  o'clock  —  sparring.'  Luckily,  I 
made  a  light'  dinner,  and  went  sharp  to  time  into  Christ 
Church.  The  porter  directed  me  to  the  noble  viscount's 
rooms;  they  were  most  splendid  certainly  —  first-floor 
rooms  in  Peckwater.  I  was  shown  into  the  large  room, 
which  was  magnificently  furnished  and  lighted.  A  good 
space  was  cleared  in  the  centre ;  there  were  all  sorts  of 
bottles  and  glasses  on  the  sideboard.  There  might  have 
been  twelve  or  fourteen  men  present,  almost  all  in  tufts  or 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  121 

gentlemen-commoners'  caps.  One  or  two  of  out  college 
I  recognized.  The  fighting-man  was  also  there,  stripped 
for  sparring,  which  none  of  the  rest  were.  It  was  plain 
that  the  sport  had  not  begun ;  I  think  he  was  doing  some 
trick  of  strength  as  I  came  in.  My  noble  host  came  for- 
ward with  a  nod,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  take  any  thing, 
and,  when  I  declined,  said,  i  Then  will  you  put  on  the 
gloves?'  I  looked  at  him  rather  surprised,  and  thought 
it  an  odd  way  to  treat  the  only  stranger  in  his  own  rooms. 
However,  I  stripped,  put  on  the  gloves,  and  one  of  the 
others  came  forward  to  tie  them  for  me.  While  he  was 
doing  it  I  heard  my  host  say  to  the  man,  '  A  five-pound 
note,  mind,  if  you  do  it  within  the  quarter  of  an  hour.'* 
*  Only  half-minute  time  then,  my  lord,'  he  answered. 
The  man  who  was  tying  my  gloves  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
1  Be  steady,  don't  give  him  a  chance  to  knock  you  down.' 
It  flashed  across  me  in  a  moment  now  why  I  was  there  ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back,  so  we  stood  up  and  began 
sparring.  I  played  very  steadily  and  light  at  first,  to  see 
whether  my  suspicions  were  well  founded,  and  in  two 
minutes  I  was  satisfied.  My  opponent  tried  every  dodge 
to  bring  on  a  rally,  and  when  he  was  foiled,  I  could  see 
that  he  was  shifting  his  glove.  I  stopped  and  insisted 
that  his  gloves  should  be  tied,  and  then  we  went  ong 
again. 

"  I  kept  on  the  defensive.  The  man  was  in  bad  train- 
ing, and  luckily  I  had  the  advantage  by  an  inch  or  so  in 
length  of  arm.  Before  five  minutes  were  over,  I  had 
caught  enough  of  the  bystanders'  remarks  to  know  that 
my  noble  host  had  betted  a  pony  that  I  should  be  knocked 
down  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  My  one  object  now  was 
•to  make  him  lose  his  money.  My  opponent  did  his  ut- 
most for  his  patron,  and  fairly  winded  himself  in  his  efforts 
to  get  at  me.  He  had  to  call-  time  twice  himself.  I  wsaid 
11 


122  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

not  a  word ;  my  turn  would  come,  I  knew,  if  I  could  keep 
on  my  legs,  and  of  this  I  had  little  fear.  I  held  myself 
together,  made  no  attack,  and  my  length  of  arm  gave  me 
the  advantage  in  every  counter.  It  was  all  I  could  do, 
though,  to  keep  clear  of  his  rushes  as  the  time  drew  on. 
On  he  came,  time  after  time,  careless  of  guarding,  and  he 
was  full  as  good  a  man  as  I.  '  Time's  up ;  it's  past  the 
quarter.'  '  No,  by  Jove,  half  a  minute  yet ;  now's  your 
time,'  said  my  noble  host  to  his  man,  who  answered  by  a 
last  rush.  I  met  him  as  before,  with  a  steady  counter ; 
but  this  time,  by  good  luck,  my  blow  got  home  under  his 
chin,  and  he  staggered,  lost  his  footing,  and  went  fairly 
over  on  to  his  back; 

"  Most  of  the  bystanders  seemed  delighted,  and  some  of 
them  hurried  towards  me.  But  I  tore  off  the  gloves, 
flung  them  on  the  ground,  and  turned  to  my  host.  I 
could  hardly  speak,  but  I  made  an  effort,  and  said,  quickly, 
*  You  have  brought  a  stranger  to  your  rooms,  and  have 
tried  to  make  him  fight  for  your  amusement ;  now  I  tell 
you  it  is  a  blackguard  act  of  yours  —  an  act  which  no 
gentleman  would  have  done.'  My  noble  host  made  no 
remark.  I  threw  on  my  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  then 
turned  to  the  rest  and  said,  '  Gentlemen  would  not  have 
stood  by  and  seen  it  done.'  I  went  up  to  the  sideboard, 
^uncorked  a  bottle  of  champagne,  and  half  filled  a  tumbler 
before  a  word  was  spoken.  Then  one  of  the  visitors 
stepped  forward  and  said,  '  Mr.  Hardy,  I  hope  you  wont 
go;  there  has  been  a  mistake ;  we  did  not  know  of  this.  I 
am  sure  many  of  us  are  very  sorry  for  what  has  occurred; 
stay  and  look  on,  we  will  all  of  us  spar.'  I  looked  at  him, 
and  then  at  my  host,  to  see  whether  the  latter  joined  in 
the  apology.  %  Not  he ;  he  was  doing  the  dignified  sulky, . 
and  most  of  the  rest  seemed  to  me  to  be  with  him.  '  "Will 
any  of  you  spar  with  me  ? '  I  said,  tauntingly ;  tossing  off 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  VZ? 

the  champagne.  '  Certainly/  the  new  speaker  said  di- 
rectly, '  if  you  wish  it,  and  are  not  too  tired.  I  will  spar 
with  you  myself;  you  will,  wont  you,  James?'  and  he 
turned  to  one  of  the  other  men.  If  any  of  them  had 
backed  him  by  a  word  I  should  probably  have  stayed. 
Several  of  them,  I  learnt  afterwards,  would  have  liked  to 
have  done  so,  but  it  was  an  awkward  scene  to  interfere  in. 
I  stopped  a  moment,  and  then  said,  with  a  sneer :  '  You're 
too  small,  and  none  of  the  other  gentlemen  seem  inclined 
to  offer.' 

"  I  saw  that  T  had  hurt  him,  and  felt  pleased  at  the  mo- 
ment that  I  had  done  so.  I  was  now  ready  to  start,  and  I 
could  not  think  of  any  thing  more  unpleasant  to  say  at  the 
moment ;  so  I  went  up  to  my  antagonist,  who  was  stand- 
ing with  the  gloves  on  still,  not  quite  knowing  what  to  be 
at,  and  held  out  my  hand.  'I  can  shake  hands  with  you, 
at  any  rate,'  I  said ;  '  you  only  did  what  you  were  paid 
for  in  the  regular  way  of  business,  and  you  did  your  best.' 
He  looked  rather  sheepish,  but  held  out  his  gloved  hand, 
which  I  shook.  '  Now  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  all  a 
very  good  evening ;'  and  so  I  left  the  place  and  got  home 
to  my  own  rooms,  and  sat  down  there  with  several  new 
ideas  in  my  head.  On  the  whole,  the  lesson  was  not  a 
very  bitter  one,  for  I  felt  that  I  had  had  the  best  of  the 
game.  The  only  thing  I  really  was  sorry  for,  was  my 
own  insolence  to  the  man  who  had  come  forward  as  a 
peacemaker.  I  had  remarked  his  face  before.  I  don't 
know  how  it  is  with  you,  but  I  can  never  help  looking  at 
a  tuft  —  the  gold  tassel  draws  one's  eyes  somehow :  and 
then  it's  an  awful  position,  after  all,  for  mere  boys  to  be 
placed  in.  So  .1  knew  his  face  before  that  day,  though  I 
had  only  seen  him  two  or  three  times  in  the  street.  Now 
it  was  much  more  clearly  impressed  on  my  mind ;  and  I 
called  it  up  and  looked  it  over,  Jialf  hoping  that  I  should 


121  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

detect  something  to  justify  me  to  myself,  but  without  &uc* 
cess.  However,  I  got  the  whole  affair  pretty  well  out  of 
my  head  by  bedtime. 

"While  I  was  at  breakfast  the  next  morning,  my  scout 
came  in  with  a  face  of  the  most  ludicrous  importance,  and 
quite  a  deferential  manner.  I  declare  I  don't  think  he 
has  ever  got  back  since  that  day  to  his  original  free-and- 
easy  swagger.  He  laid  a  card  on  my  table,  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  said,  '  His  ludship  is  houtside  waitin', 
»r.' 

"  I  had  had  enough  of  lords'  cards ;  and  the  scene  of 
yesterday  rose  painfully  before  me  as  I  threw  the  card 
into  the  fire  without  looking  at  it,  and  said, '  Tell  him  I  am 
engaged.'- 

"My  scout, with  something  like  a  shudder  at  my  audac- 
ity, replied,  l  His  ludship  told  me  to  say,  sir,  as  his  bis'- 
ness  was  very  particular,  so  hif  you  was  engaged  he  wouJd 
call  again  in  half  an  hour.' 

" '  Tell  him  to  come  in,  then,  if  he  wont  take  a  civil 
hint.'  I  felt  sure  who  it  would  be,  but  hardly  knew 
whether  to  be  pleased  or  annoyed,  when  in  another  min- 
ute the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  the  peacemaker.  I 
don't  know  which  of  us  was  most  embarrassed  ;  he  walked 
straight  up  to  me  without  lifting  his  eyes,  and  held  out 
his  hand,  saying,  'I  hope,  Mr.  Hardy,  you  will  shake 
hands  with  me  now.' 

" '  Certainly,  my  lord,'  I  said,  taking  his  hand.  *  I  am 
sorry  for  what  I  said  to  you  yesterday,  when  my  blood 
was  up.' 

" '  You  said  no  more  than  we  deserved,'  he  answered, 
twirling  his  cap  by  the  long  gold  tassel ;  '  I  could  not  be 
comfortable  without  coming  to  assure  you  again  myself, 
that  neither  I,  nor,  I  believe,  half  the  men  in  Philippine^ 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  125 

rooms  yesterday,  knew  any  thing  of  the  bet.  I  really  can- 
not tell  you  how  annoyed  I  have  been  about  it/ 

u  I  assured  him  that  he  might  make  himself  quite  easy, 
and  then  remained  standing,  expecting  him  to  go,  and  not 
knowing  exactly  what  to  say  further.  But  he  begged  me 
to  go  on  with  my  breakfast,  and  sat  down,  and  then  asked 
me  to  give  him  a  cup  of  tea,  as  he  had  not  breakfasted 
So  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  sitting  opposite  one  another^ 
over  tea  and  bread  and  butter,  for  he  didn't  ask  for  and  I 
didn't  offer  any  thing  else.  It  was  rather  a  trying  meal, 
for  each  of  us  was  doing  all  he  could  to  make  out  the 
other.  I  only  hope  I  was  as  pleasant  as  he  was.  After 
breakfast  he  went,  and  I  thought  the  acquaintance  was 
probably  at  an  end;  he  had  done  all  that  a  gentleman 
need  have  done,  and  had  wellnigh  healed  a  raw  place  in 
my  mental  skin. 

"  But  I  was  mistaken.  Without  intruding  himself  od 
me,  he  managed  somehow  or  another  to  keep  on  building 
up  the  acquaintance  little  by  little.  For  some  time  I 
looked  out  very  jealously  for  any  patronizing  airs,  and 
even  after  I  was  convinced  that  he  had  nothing  of  the 
sort  in  him,  avoided  him  as  much  as  I  could,  though  he 
was  the  most  pleasant  and  best-informed  man  I  knew. 
However,  we  became  intimate,  and  I  saw  a  good  deal  of 
him,  in  a  quiet  way,  at  his  own  rooms.  I  wouldn't  go  to 
his  parties,  and  asked  him  not  to  come  to  me  here,  for  my 
horror  of  being  thought  a  tuft  hunter  had  become  almost 
a  disease.  He  was  not  so  old  as  I,  but  he  was  just  leav- 
ing the  university,  for  he  had  come  up  early,  and  lords' 
sons  are  allowed  to  go  out  in  two  years,  —  I  suppose  be- 
cause the  authorities  think  they  will  do  less  harm  here  in 
two  than  in  three  years ;  —  but  it  is  somewhat  hard  on 
poor  men,  who  have  to  earn  their  bread,  to  see  such  a 
privilege  given  to  those  who  want  it  least.  When  he  left, 
11* 


126  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

he  made  me  promise  to  go  and  pay  him  a  visit  —  -  which 
I  did  in  the  long  vacation,  at  a  splendid  place  up  in  the 
north,  and  enjoyed  myself  more  than  I  care  to  own.  His 
father,  who  is  quite  worthy  of  his  son,  and  all  his  family, 
were  as  kind  as  people  could  be.  Well,  amongst  other 
folk,  I  met  there  a  young  sprig  of  nobility,  who  was  com- 
ing up  here  the  next  term.  He  had  been  brought  up 
abroad,  and  I  suppose  knew  very  few  men  of  his  own  age 
in  England.  Well,  he  was  not  a  bad  style  of  boy,  but 
rather  too  demonstrative,  and  not  strong  headed.  He  took 
to  me  wonderfully,  was  delighted  to  hear  that  I  was  up  at 
Oxford,  and  talked  constantly  of  how  much  we  should  see 
of  one  another.  As  it  happened,  I  was  almost  the  first 
man  he  met  when  he  got  off  the  coach  at  the  '  Angel,'  at 
the  beginning  of  his  first  term.  He  almost  embraced  me, 
and  nothing  would  serve  but  I  must  dine  with  him  at  the 
inn,  and  we  spent  the  evening  together,  and  parted  deaf 
friends.  Two  days  afterwards  we  met  in  the  street ;  he 
was  with  two  other  youngsters,  and  gave  me  a  polished 
and  distant  bow.  In  another  week  he  passed  me  as  if 
we  had  never  met. 

*  I  don't  blame  him,  poor  boy.  My  only  wonder  is  that 
any  of  them  ever  got  through  this  place  without  being 
thoroughly  spoilt.  From  vice-chancellor  down  to  scout's 
boy,  the  whole  of  Oxford  seems  to  be  in  league  to  turn 
their  heads,  even  if  they  come  up  with  them  set  on  straight, 
which  toadying  servants  take  care  shall  never  happen  if 
they  can  hinder  it.  The  only  men  who  would  do  them 
good  up  here,  both  dons  and  undergraduates,  keep  out  of 
their  way,  very  naturally.  Gentlemen-commoners  have 
a  little  better  chance,  though  not  much,  and  seem  to  me 
to  be  worse  than  the  tufts,  and  to  furnish  most  of  their 
toadies. 

"  Well,  are  you  tired  of  my  railing  ?    I  dare  say  I  am 


TOM*  BROWit   AT    OXFORD.  127 

rabid  about  it  all.  Only  it  does  go  to  my  heart  to  thihk 
what  this  place  might  be  and  what  it  is.  I  see  I  needn't 
give  you  any  more  of  my  experience. 

"  You'll  understand,  now,  some  of  the  things  that  have 
puzzled  you  about  me.  Oh !  I  know  they  did.  You 
needn't  look  apologetic.  I  don't  wonder,  or  blame  you.  I 
am  a  very  queer  bird  for  the  perch  I  have  lit  on ;  I  know 
that  as  well  as  anybody.  The  only  wonder  is  that  you 
ever  took  the  trouble  to  try  to  lime  me.  Now  have  an- 
other glass  of  toddy.  Why !  it  is  near  twelve.  I  must 
have  one  pipe,  and  turn  in.     No  Aristophanes  to-night." 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A   BROWN   BAIT. 


Tom's  little  exaltation  in  his  own  eyes  consequent  on 
the  cupboard-smashing  escapade  of  his  friend  was  not  to 
last  long.  Not  a  week  had  elapsed  before  he  himself 
arrived  suddenly  in  Hardy's  room,  in  as  furious  a  state 
of  mind  as  the  other  had  so  lately  been  in,  allowing  for 
the  difference  of  the  men.  Hardy  looked  up  from  his 
books,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Where  have  you  been  to-night  ? 
You  look  fierce  enough  to  sit  for  the  portrait  of  Sanguin- 
oso  Volcanoni,  the  bandit." 

"  Been,"  said  Tom,  sitting  down  on  the  spare  Windsor 
chair  which  he  usually  occupied,  so  hard  as  to  make  it 
crack  again,  —  "  been !  I've  been  to  a  wine  party  at  Hen- 
don's.     Do  you  know  any  of  that  set  ?  " 

"No;  except  Grey,  who  came  into  residence  in  the  same 
term  with  me.  We  have  been  reading  for  degree  together. 
You  must  have  seen  him  here  sometimes  in  the  evenings." 

"  Yes,  I  remember ;  the  fellow  with  a  stiff  neck,  who 
wont  look  you  in  the  face." 

"  Ay;  but  he  is  a  sterling  man  at  the  bottom,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  Well,  he  wasn't  there.  You  don't  know  any  of  the 
rest  ?  " 

"No." 

9  And  never  went  to  any  of  their  parties  ?  " 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  129 

"  No." 

"  You've  had  no  loss,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Tom,  pleased 
that  the  ground  was  clear  for  him ;  "  I  never  was  amongst 
Euch  a  set  of  waspish,  dogmatical,  overbearing  fellows  in 
my  life." 

"Why,  what  in  the  name  of  fortune  have  they  been 
doing  to  you?  How  did  you  fall  among  such  Philis- 
tines?" 

"  I'm  such  an  easy  fool,  you  see,"  said  Tom ;  "  I  go  off 
directly  with  any  fellow  that  asks  me ;  fast  or  slow,  it's 
all  the  same.  I  never  think  twice  about  the  matter,  and, 
generally,  I  like  all  the  fellows  I  meet,  and  enjoy  every 
thing ;  but  just  catch  me  at  another  of  their  stuck-up 
wines,  that's  all !  " 

"  But  you  wont  tell  me  what's  the  matter." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  why  Hendon  should  have  asked 
me.  He  can't  think  me  a  likely  card  for  a  convert,  I 
should  think.  At  any  rate,  he  asked  me  to  wine,  and  I 
went  as  usual.  Every  thing  was  in  capital  style  (it  don't 
seem  to  be  any  part  of  their  creed,  mind  you,  to  drink 
bad  wine),  and  awfully  gentlemanly  and  decorous." 

"  Yes,  that's  aggravating,  I  admit.  It  would  have  been 
in  better  taste,  of  course,  if  they  had  been  a  little  black- 
guard and  indecorous.  No  doubt,  too,  one  has  a  right  to 
expect  bad  wine  at  Oxford.     Well  ?  " 

Hardy  spoke  so  gravely,  that  Tom  had  to  look  across 
at  him  for  half  a  minute.     Then  he  went  on  with  a  grin. 

"  There  was  a  piano  in  one  corner,  and  muslin  curtains 
■ — I  give  you  my  word,  muslin  curtains,  besides  the  stuff 
ones." 

"  You  don't  say  so  ?  "  said  Hardy ;  "  put  up,  no  doubt, 
to  insult  you.  No  wonder  you  looked  so  furious  when 
you  came  in.     Any  thing  else  ?  " 


130  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  Let  me  see — yes  —  I  counted  three  sorts  of  scents  on 
the  mantelpiece,  besides  eau  de  Cologne.  But  I  could 
have  stood  it  all  well  enough  if  it  hadn't  been  for  their 
talk.  From  one  thing  to  another  they  got  to  cathedrals, 
and  one  of  them  called  St.  Paul's  '  a  disgrace  to  a  Christian 
city.'  I  couldn't  stand  that,  you  know.  I  was  always 
bred  to  respect  St.  Paul's  ;  weren't  you  ?  " 

"  My  education  in  that  line  was  neglected,"  said  Hardy, 
gravely;  "and  so  you  took  up  the  cudgels  for  St. 
Paul's?" 

"  Yes ;  I  plumped  out  that  St.  Paul's  was  the  finest 
cathedral  in  England.  You'd  have  thought  I  had  said 
that  lying  was  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues  —  one  or  two 
just  treated  me  to  a  sort  of  pitying  sneer,  but  my  neigh- 
bors were  down  upon  me  with  a  vengeance.  I  stuck  to 
my  text  though,  and  they  drove  me  into  saying  I  liked 
the  Ratcliffe  more  than  any  building  in  Oxford ;  which  I 
don't  believe  I  do,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it.  So  when 
they  couldn't  get  me  to  budge  for  their  talk,  they  took  to 
telling  me  that  everybody  who  knew  any  thing  about 
church  architecture  was  against  me  —  of  course,  meaning 
that  I  knew  nothing  about  it  —  for  the  matter  of  that,  I 
don't  mean  to  say  that  I  do  "  —  Tom  paused  ;  it  had  sud- 
denly occurred  to  him  that  there  might  be  some  reason  in 
the  rough  handling  he  had  got. 

"But  what  did  you  say  to  the  authorities?"  said 
Hardy,  who  was  greatly  amused. 

"  Said  I  didn't  care  a  straw  for  them,"  said  Tom ;  "  there 
was  no  right  or  wrong  in  the  matter,  and  I  had  as  good  a 
right  to  my  opinion  as  Pugin — or  whatever  his  name  is 
— and  the  rest." 

"What  heresy!"  said  Hardy,  laughing;  "you  caught 
it  for  that,  I  suppose  ?  " 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  131 

u  Didn't  I !  They  made  such  a  noise  over  it,  that  the 
men  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  stopped  talking  (they 
were  all  freshmen  at  our  end),  and  when  they  found  what 
was  up,  one  of  the  older  ones  took  me  in  hand,  and  I  got 
a  lecture  about  the  middle  ages,  and  the  monks.  I  said 
I  thought  England  was  well  rid  of  the  monks ;  and  then 
we  got  on  to  Protestantism,  and  fasting,  and  apostolic  suc- 
cession, and  passive  obedience,  and  I  don't  know  what  all ! 
I  only  know  I  was  tired  enough  of  it  before  coffee  came ; 
but  I  couldn't  go,  you  know,  with  all  of  them  on  me  at 
once  ;  could  I  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  you  were  like  the  six  thousand  uncon- 
querable British  infantry  at  Albuera.  You  held  your 
position  by  sheer  fighting,  suffering  fearful  loss." 

"Well,"  said^om,  laughing,  for  he  had  talked  himself 
into  good  hum«  again,  "  I  dare  say  I  talked  a  deal  of 
nonsense ;  and,  when  I  come  to  think  it  over,  a  good  deal 
of  what  some  of  them  said  had  something  in  it.  I  should 
like  to  hear  it  again,  quietly,  but  there  were  others  sneer- 
ing and  giving  themselves  airs,  and  that  puts  a  fellow's 
back  up." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hardy ;  "  a  good  many  of  the  weakest  and 
vainest  men  who  come  up  take  to  this  sort  of  thing  now. 
They  can  do  nothing  themselves,  and  get  a  sort  of  platform 
by  going  in  for  the  High  Church  business  from  which  to 
look  down  on  their  neighbors." 

"  Thate  just  what  I  thought,"  said  Tom  ;  "  they  tried 
to  push  mother  Church,  mother  Church,  down  my  throat 
at  every  turn.  I'm  as  fond  of  the  Church  as  any  of  them, 
but  I  don't  want  to  be  jumping  up  on  her  back  every 
minute,  like  a  sickly  chicken  getting  on  the  old  hen's  back 
to  warm  his  feet  whenever  the  ground  is  cold,  and  fancy- 
ing himself  taller  than  all  the  rest  of  the  brood." 


f 


132  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"You  were  unlucky,"  said  Hardy;  "there  are  some 
very  line  fellows  amongst  them." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  seen  much  of  them,"  said  Tom,'  "  and 
I  don't  want  to  see  any  more,  for  it  seems  to  me  all  a 
Gothic-mouldings  and  man-millinery  business." 

"You  wont  think  so  when  you've  been  up  a  little 
longer,"  said  Hardy,  getting  up  to  make  tea,  which  opera- 
tion he  had  hardly  commenced,  when  a  knock  came  at 
the  door,  and  in  answer  to  Hardy's  "  Come  in,"  a  slight, 
shy  man  appeared,  who  hesitated,  and  seemed  inclined  to 
go  when  he  saw  that  Hardy  was  not  alone. 

"Oh!  come  in,  and  have  a  cup  of  tea,  Grey.  You 
know  Brown,  I  think  ?  "  said  Hardy,  looking  round  from 
the  fire,  where  he  was  filling  his  teapot,  to  watch  Tom's 
reception  of  the  new-comer. 

Our  hero  took  his  feet  down,  drew™imself  up,  and 
made  a  solemn  bow,  which  Grey  returned,  and  then  sidled 
nervously  on  to  a  chair,  and  looked  very  uncomfortable. 
However,  in  another  minute  Hardy  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  began  pouring  out  the  tea.  He  was  evidently  tickled 
at  the  idea  of  confronting  Tom  so  soon  with  another  of 
his  enemies.  Tom  saw  this,  and  put  on  a  cool  and  ma- 
jestic manner  in  consequence,  which  evidently  increased 
the  discomfort  of  Grey's  seat,  and  kept  Hardy  on  the  edge 
of  an  abyss  of  laughter.  In  fact,  he  had  to  ease  himself 
by  talking  of  other  indifferent  matters,  and  laughing  at 
nothing.  Tom  had  never  seen  him  in  this  sort  of  humor 
before,  and  couldn't  help  enjoying  it,  though  he  felt  that  it 
was  partly  at  his  own  expense.  However,  when  Hardy  once 
just  approached  the  subject  of  the  wine  party,  Tom  bristled 
up  so  quickly,  and  Grey  looked  so  meekly  wretched,  though 
he  knew  nothing  of  what  was  coming,  that  Hardy  sud- 
denly changed  the  subject,  and  turning  to  Grey,  said,  — 


TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD.  133 

M  What  have  you  been  doing  the  last  fortnight  ?  You 
haven't  been  here  once.  I've  been  obliged  to  get  on  with 
my  Aristotle  without  you." 

'•  I'm  very  sorry,  indeed ;  but  I  haven't  been  able  to 
come,"  said  Grey,  looking  sideways  at  Hardy,  and  then 
at  Tom,  who  sat  regarding  the  wall,  supremely  indif- 
ferent. 

"  Well,  I've  finished  my  ethics,"  said  Hardy ;  u  cant 
you  come  in  to-morrow  night  to  talk  them  over  ?  I  sup- 
pose you're  through  them,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  really,"  said  Grey,  "  I  haven't  been  able  to  look 
at  them  since  the  last  time  I  was  here." 

"  You  must  take  care,"  said  Hardy ;  "  the  new  exam- 
iners are  all  for  science  and  history.  It  wont  do  for  you 
to  go  in  trusting  •your  scholarship." 

"  I  hope  to  m Me  it  up  in  the  Easter  vacation,"  said 
Grey. 

"  You'll  have  enough  to  do,  then,"  said  Hardy.  "  But 
how  is  it  you've  dropped  astern  so  ?  " 

u  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Grey,  hesitatingly,  "  that  the 
curate  of  St.  Peter's  has  set  up  some  night-schools,  and 
wanted  some  help.  So  I  have  been  doing  what  I  could 
to  help  him ;  and  really,"  looking  at  his  watch,  "  I  must 
be  going ;  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  how  it  was  I  didn't 
come  now." 

Hardy  looked  at  Tom,  who  was  taken  rather  aback  by 
this  announcement,  and  began  to  look  less  haughtily  at 
the  wall.  He  even  condescended  to  take  a  short  glance 
at  his  neighbor. 

"  It's  unlucky,"  said  Hardy ;  "  but  do  you  teach  every 
night?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Grey.  "  I  used  to  do  my  science  and  his- 
tory at  night,  you  know  ;  but  I  find  that  teaching  takes  so 
12 


134  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

much  out  of  me,  that  I'm  only  fit  for  bed  now.  However, 
I'm  so  glad  I've  told  you.  I  have  wanted  to  do  it  for 
some  time.  And  if  you  would  let  me  come  in  for  an 
hour  directly  after  hall,  instead  of  later,  I  think  I  could 
still  manage  that." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Hardy ;  "  come  when  you  like.  But 
it's  rather  hard  to  take  you  away  every  night,  so  near  the 
examinations." 

"  It  is  my  own  wish,"  said  Grey.  "  I  should  have  been' 
very  glad  if  it  hadn't  happened  just  now ;  but  as  it  has,  I 
must  do  the  best  I  can." 

"  Well,  but  I  should  like  to  help  you.  Can't  I  take  a 
night  or  two  off  your  hands  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  said  Tom,  fired  with  a  sudden  enthusiasm ;  "  it 
will  be  as  bad  for  you,  Hardy.  It  can^  want  much  schol- 
arship to  teach  there.  Let  me  go.  Fll  take  two  nights 
a  week,  if  you'll  let  me." 

"  Oh,  "thank  you,"  said  Grey ;  "  but  I  don't  know  how 
my  friend  might  like  it.  That  is— I  mean,"  he  said,  get- 
ting very  red,  "  it's  very  kind  of  you,  only  I'm  used  to  it ; 
and  —  and  they  rely  on  me.  But  I  really  must  go  ;  good- 
night ; "  and  Grey  went  off  in  confusion. 

As  soon  as  the  door  had  fairly  closed,  Hardy  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  lay  back  in  his  chair  laughing  till 
the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  Tom,  wholly  unable  to 
appreciate  the  joke,  sat  looking  at  him  with  perfect  grav- 
ity. 

"  "What  can  the^e  be  in  your  look,  Brown,"  said  Hardy, 
when  he  could  speak  again,  "  to  frighten  Grey  so  ?  Did 
you  see  what  a  fright  he  was  in  at  once,  at  the  idea  of 
turning  you  into  the  night-schools  ?  There  must  be  some 
lurking  Protestantism  in  your  face  somewhere,  which  I 
hadn't  detected." 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  135 

"  I  don't  believe  he  was  frightened  at  me  a  bit,  He 
wouldn't  have  you  either,  remember,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  that  don't  look  as  if  it  were  all 
mere  Gothic  mouldings  and  man  millinery,  does  it  ?  "  said 
Hardy. 

Tom  sipped  his  tea  and  considered. 

"  One  can't  help  admiring  him,  do  you  know,  for  it," 
he  said.  "  Do  you  think  he  is  really  thrown  back  now  in 
his  own  reading  by  this  teaching  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  of  it.  He  is  such  a  quiet  fellow,  that  nothing 
else  is  likely  to  draw  him  off  reading ;  and  I  can  see  that 
he  doesn't  get  on  as  he  used,  day  by  day.  Unless  he 
makes  it  up  somehow,  he  wont  get  his  first." 

"  He  don't  seem  to  like  the  teaching  work  much,"  said 
Tom. 

"  Quite  the  contrary  as  far  as  I  can  see." 

"  Then  it  is  a  very  fine  thing  of  him,"  said  Tom. 

"  And  you  retract  your  man-millinery  dictum,  so  far  as 
he  is  concerned  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  I  do,  heartily ;  but  not  as  to  the  set  in  gen- 
eral." 

"  Well,  they  don't  suit  me  either ;  but,  on  the  whole, 
they  are  wanted,  at  any  rate,  in  this  college.  Even  the 
worst  of  them  is  making  some  sort  of  protest  for  self-de-i 
nial  and  against  self-indulgence,  which  is  nowhere  more 
needed  than  here." 

"  A  nice  sort  of  protest  —  muslin  curtains,  a  piano, 
and  thirty-four  claret." 

"  Oh,  you've  no  right  to  count  Hendon  among  them  ;  he 
has  only  a  little  hankering  after  mediaevalism,  and  thinks 
the  whole  thing  gentlemanly." 

"  I  only  know  the  whole  clamjamfery  of  them  were 
there,  and  didn't  seem  to  protest  much." 


136  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"Brown  you're  a  bigot.  I  should  never  have  thought 
you  would  have  been  so  furious  against  any  set  of  fellows. 
I  begin  to  smell  Arnold." 

"  No,  you  don't.  He  never  spoke  to  me  against  any- 
body." 

"  Halloo  !  It  was  the  Rugby  atmosphere,  then,  I  sup- 
pose. But  I  tell  you  they  are  the  only  men  in  this  college 
who  are  making  that  protest,  whatever  their  motives  may 
be." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  yourself,  old  fellow  ?" 

"  Nonsense !  I  never  deny  myself  any  pleasure  that  I 
can  afford,  if  it  isn't  wrong  in  itself,  and  doesn't  hinder 
any  one  else.  I  can  tell  you,  I'm  as  fond  of  fine  things 
and  good  living  as  you." 

"  If  it  isn't  wrong,  and  you  can  afford  it,  and  don't  hurt 
anybody !  Just  so.  Well,  then,  mustn't  it  be  right  for 
you  to  have  ?  You  wouldn't  have  it  put  under  your  nose, 
I  suppose,  just  for  you  to  smell  at  it,  and  let  it  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  know  all  that.  I've  been  over  it  all  often 
enough,  and  there's  truth  in  it.  But,  mind  you,  it's  rather 
slippery  ground,  especially  for  a  freshman.  And  there's 
a  great  deal  to  be  said  on  the  other  side  —  I  mean,  for  de- 
nying one's  self  just  for  the  sake  of  the  self-denial." 

"  Well,  they  don't  deny  themselves  the  pleasure  of  look- 
ing at  a  fellow,  as  if  he  were  a  Turk  because  he  likes  St. 
Paul's  better  than  Westminster  Abbey." 

"  How  that  snubbing  you  got  at  the  ecclesiological  wine 
party  seems  to  rankle  —  There,  now !  don't  bristle  up 
like  a  hedgehog.  I'll  never  mention  that  unfortunate 
wine  again.  I  saw  the  eight  come  in  to-day.  You  are 
keeping  much  better  time ;  but  there  is  a  weak  place 
or  two  forward." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  delighted  to  change  the  subject ;  "  I 


TOil   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  137 

• 

find  it  awfully  hard  to  pull  up  to  Jervis'  stroke.     Do  you 
think  I  shall  ever  get  to  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  will.  Why,  you  have  only  been  pull- 
ing behind  him  a  dozen  times  or  so,  and  his  is  the  most 
trying  stroke  on  the  river.  You  quicken  a  little  on  it ; 
but  I  didn't  mean  you.  Two  and  five  are  the  blots  in  the 
boat." 

"  You  think  so?"  said  Tom,  much  relieved.  *"  So  does 
Miller,  I  can  see.  It's  so  provoking  —  Drysdale  is  to  pull 
two  in  the  races  next  term,  and  Blake  seven,  and  then 
Diogenes  will  go  to  five.  He's  obliged  to  pull  seven 
now,  because  Blake  wont  come  down  this  term ;  no  more 
will  Drysdale.  They  say  there  will  be  plenty  of  time 
after  Easter." 

"It's  a  great  pity,"  said  Hardy. 

u  Isn't  it  ?  "  said  Tom ;  "  and  it  makes  Miller  so  savage. 
He  walks  into  us  all  as  if  it  were  our  faults.  Do  you  think 
he's  a,  good  coxswain  ?  " 

""  Firstrate  on  most  points,  but  rather  too  sharp-tongued. 
You  can't  get  a  man's  best  out  of  him  without  a  little 
'praise."  * 

"  Yes,  that's  just  it ;  he  puts  one's  back  up,"  said  Tom. 
"  But  the  captain  is  a  splendid  fellow  ;  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  a  little  too  easy,  at  least  with  men  like 
Blake  and  Drysdale.  He  ought  to  make  them  train  or 
turn  them  out." 

"  But  whom  could  he  get  ?  There's  nobody  else.  If 
you  would  pull,  now  —  why  shouldn't  you  ?  I'm  sure  it 
would  make  us  all  right." 

"  I  don't  subscribe  to  the  club,"  said  Hardy.  "  I  wish  I 
had,  for  I  should  like  to  have  pulled  with  you  and  behind 
Jervis  this  year." 

"  Do  let  me  tell  the  captain,"  said  Tom ;  "  I'm  sure  he'd 
manage  it  somehow." 
12* 


188  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

• 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late,"  said  Hardy ;  "  I  cut  myielf  off 
from  every  thing  of  the  sort  two  years  ago,  and  I'm  be- 
ginning to  think  I  was  a  fool  for  my  pains." 

Nothing  more  was  said  on  the  subject  at  the  time,  but 
Tom  went  away  in  great  spirits  at  having  drawn  this  con- 
fession out  of  Hardy  —  the  more  so,  perhaps,  because  he 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  had  something  to  say  to  the 
change  in  his  friend.  From  this  time  he  set  himself  to 
work  on  the  problem  of  getting  Hardy  into  the  racing 
boat  of  St.  Ambrose's  College. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SUMMER   TERM. 

How  many  spots  in  life  are  there  which  will  bear  com- 
parison with  the  beginning  of  our  second  term  at  the  uni- 
versity ?  So  far  as  external  circumstances  are  concerned, 
it  seems  hard  to  know  what  a  man  could  find  to  ask  for  at 
that  period  of  his  life,  if  a  fairy  godmother  were  to  alight 
in  his  rooms  and  offer  him  the  usual  three  wishes.  The 
sailor  who  had  asked  for  "  all  the  grog  in  the  world,"  and 
"  all  the  baccy  in  the  world,"  was  indeed  driven  to  "  a  lit- 
tle more  baccy  "  as  his  third  requisition ;  but,  at  any  rate, 
his  two  first  requisitions  were  to  some  extent  grounded 
on  what  he  held  to  be  substantial  wants  ;  he  felt  himself 
actually  limited  in  the  matters  of  grog  and  tobacco.  The 
condition  which  Jack  would  have  been  in  as  a  wisher,  if 
he  had  been  started  on  his  quest  with  the  assurance  that 
his  utmost  desires  in  the  direction  of  alcohol  and  narcotics 
were  already  provided  for,  and  must  be  left  out  of  the 
question,  is  the  only  one  affording  a  pretty  exact  parallel 
to  the  case  we  are  considering.  In  our  second-  term  we 
are  no  longer  freshmen,  and  begin  to  feel  ourselves  at 
home,  while  both  "  smalls  "  and  "  greats  "  are  sufficiently 
distant  to  be  altogether  ignored,  if  we  are  that  way  in- 
clined, or  to  be  looked  forward  to  with  confidence  that  the 
game  is  in  our  own  hands  if  we  are  reading  men.'  Our 
financial  position  —  unless  we  have  exercised  rare  inge- 
n uity  in  involving  ourselres  —  is  all  that  heart  can  de- 
6i  ^e ;  we  have  ample  allowances  paid  in  quarterly  to  the 


140  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

university  bankers  without  thought  or  trouble  of  ours,  and 
our  credit  is  at  its  zenith.  It  is  a  part  of  our  recognized 
duty  to  repay  the  hospitality  we  have  received  as  fresh- 
men ;  and  all  men  will  be  sure  to  come  to  our  first  parties, 
to  see  how  wq  do  the  thing ;  it  will  be  our  own  faults  if 
we  do  not  keep  them-  in  future.  We  have  not  had  time 
to  injure  our  characters  to  any  material  extent  with  the 
authorities  of  our  own  college,  or  of  the  university.  Our 
spirits  are  never  likely  to  be  higher,  or  our  digestions  bet- 
ter. These,  and  many  other  comforts  and  advantages,  en- 
viron the  fortunate  youth  returning  to  Oxford  after  his 
first  vacation ;  thrice  fortunate,  however,  if,  as  happened 
in  our  hero's  case,  it  is  Easter  term  to  which  he  is  return- 
ing; for  that  Easter  term,  with  the  four  days'  vacation, 
and  little  Trinity  term  at  the  end  of  it,  is  surely  the  cream 
of  the  Oxford  year.  Then,  even  in  this,  our  stern  north- 
ern climate,  the  sun  is  beginning  to  have  power,  the  days 
have  lengthened  out,  greatcoats  are  unnecessary  at  morn- 
ing chapel,  and  the  miseries  of  numbed  hands  and  shiv- 
ering skins  no  longer  accompany  every  pull  on  the  river 
and  canter  on  Bullingdon.  In  Christ  Church  meadows 
and  the  college  gardens  the  birds  are  making  sweet  music 
in  the  tall  elms ;  you  may  almost  hear  the  thick  grass 
growing,  and  the  buds  on  tree  and  shrub  are  changing 
from  brown,  red,  or  purple,  to  emerald  green  under  your 
eyes ;  the  glorious  old  city  is  putting  on  her  best  looks 
and  bursting  out  into  laughter  and  song.  In  a  few  weeks 
the  races  begin,  and  Cowley  Marsh  will  be  alive  with 
white  tents  and  joyous  cricketers.  A  quick  ear,  on  the 
towing-path  by  the  Gut,  may  feast  at  one  time  on  those 
three  sweet  sounds,' the  thud  thud  of  the  eight-oar,  the 
crack  of  the  rifles  at  tha  weirs,  and  the  click  of  the  bat 
on  the  Magdalen  ground.  And  then  Commemoration 
rises  in  the  background  with  its  clouds  of  fair  visitors,  and 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  141 

visions  of  excursions  to  Woodstock  and  Nuneham  in  the 
summer  days ;  of  windows  open  on  to  the  old  quadrangles 
ir.  the  long,  still  evenings,  through  which  silver  laughter 
and  strains  of  sweet  music  not  made  by  man,  steal  out 
and  puzzle  the  old  celibate  jackdaws  peering  down  from 
the  battlements  with  heads  on  one  side.  To  crown  all, 
long  vacation,  beginning  with  the  run  to  Henley  regatta, 
or  up  to  town  to  see  the  match  with  Cambridge  at  Lord's 
and  taste  some  of  the  sweets  of  the  season,  before  starting 
on  some  pleasant  tour  or  reading  party,  or  dropping  back 
into  the  quiet  pleasures  of  English  country  life !  Surely, 
the  lot  of  young  Englishmen  who  frequent  our  universi- 
ties is  cast  in  pleasant  places ;  the  country  has  a  right  to 
expect  something  from  those  for  whom  she  finds  such  a 
life  as  this  in  the  years  when  enjoyment  is  keenest. 
#  Tom  was  certainly  alive  to  the  advantages  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  entered  on  his  kingdom  without  any  kind  of 
scruple.  He  was  very  glad  to  find  things  so  pleasant,  and 
quite  resolved  to  make  the  best  he  could  of  them.  Then  he 
was  in  a  particularly  good-humor  with  himself;  for,  in  def- 
erence to  the  advice  of  Hardy,  he  had  actually  fixed  on  the 
books  which  he  should  send  in  for  his  little-go  examination 
before  going  down  for  the  Easter  vacation,  and  had  read 
them  through  at  home,  devoting  an  hour  or  two  almost 
daily  to  this  laudable  occupation.  So  he  felt  himself  enti- 
tled to  take  things  easily  on  his  return.  He  had  brought 
back  with  him  two  large  hampers  of  good  sound  wine,  a 
gift  from  his  father  who  had  a  horror  of  letting  his  son 
set  before  his  friends  the  fire-water  which  is  generally  sold 
to  the  undergraduate.  Tom  found  that  his  father's  notions 
of  tlie  rate  of  consumption  prevalent  in  the  university  were 
wild  in  the  extreme.  "  In  his  time,"  the  squire  said, 
"  eleven  men  came  t^  his  first  wine  party,  and  he  had 
opened  nineteen  bottles  of  port  for  them.     He  was  very 


142  TOM   BftOWN   AT    OXFORD. 

glad  to  hear  that  the  habits  of  the  place  had  changed  so 
much  for  the  better ;  and  as  Tom  wouldn't  want  nearly  so 
much  wine,  he  should  have  it  out  of  an  older  bin."  Accord- 
ingly, the  port  which  Tom  employed  the  first  hour  after 
his  return  in  stacking  carefully  away  in  his  cellar  had 
been  more  than  twelve  years  in  bottle,  and  he  thought 
with  unmixed  satisfaction  of  the  pleasing  effect  it  would 
have  on  Jervis  and  Miller,  and  the  one  or  two  other  men 
who  knew  good  wine  from  bad,  and  guided  public  opinion 
on  the  subject,  and  of  the  social  importance  which  he  would 
soon  attain  to  from  the  reputation  of  giving  good  wine. 

The  idea  of  entertaining,  of  being  hospitable,  is  a  pleas- 
ant and  fascinating  one  to  most  young  men ;  but  the  act 
soon  gets  to  be  a  bore  to  all  but  a  few  curiously  constituted 
individuals.  With  these  hospitality  becomes  first  a  pas- 
sion and  then  a  faith  —  a  faith  the  practice  of  which,  in  tjie 
cases  of  some  of  its  professors,  reminds  one  strongly  of  the 
hints  on  such  subjects  scattered  about  the  New  Testament. 
Most  of  us,  I  fear,  feel,  when  our  friends  leave  us,  a  cer- 
tain sort  of  satisfaction,  not  unlike  that  of  paying  a  bill ; 
they  have  been  done  for,  and  can't  expect  any  thing  more 
for  a  long  time.  Such  thoughts  never  occur  to  your  really 
hospitable  man.  Long  years  of  narrow  means  cannot  hin- 
der him  from  keeping  open  house  for  whoever  wants  to 
come  to  him,  and  setting  the  best  of  every  thing  before  all 
comers.  He  has  no  notion  of  giving  you  any  thing  but 
the  best  he  can  command,  if  it  be  only  fresh  porter  from 
the  nearest  mews.  He  asks  himself  not,  "  Ought  I  to  in- 
vite A  or  B  ?  do  I  owe  him  any  thing  ?  "  but  "  Would  A  or 
B  like  to  come  here  ?  "  Give  me  these  men's  houses  for 
real  enjoyment,  though  you  never  get  any  thing*  very 
choice  there,  —  (how  can  a  man  produce  old  wine  who 
gives  his  oldest  every  day  ?  )  —  seldom  much  elbow  room 
or  orderly  arrangement.     The  higharts  of  gastronomy  and 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  143 

scientific  drinking,  so  much  valued  in  our  highly  civilized 
community,  are  wholly  unheeded  by  him,  are  altogether 
above  him,  are  cultivated  in  fact  by  quite  another  set,  who 
have  very  little  of  the  genuine  spirit  of  hospitality  in  them  ; 
from  whose  tables,  should  one  by  chance  happen  upon 
them,  one  rises  certainly  with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  and 
expansion,  chiefly  physical,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  but  en- 
tirely without  that  expansion  of  heart  which  one  gets  at 
the  scramble  of  the  hospitable  man.  So  that  we  arc 
driven  to  remark,  even  in  such  every-day  matters  as  these, 
that  it  is  the  invisible,  the  spiritual,  which,  after  all,  givep 
value  and  reality  even  to  dinners ;  and,  with  Solomon,  to 
prefer  to  the  most  touching  diner  JRusse,  the  dinner  of 
herbs  where  love  is,  though  I  trust  that  neither  we  nor 
Solomon  should  object  to  well-dressed  cutlets  with  our 
salad,  if  they  happened  to  be  going. 

•Readers  will  scarcely  need  to  be  told  that  one  of  the 
first  things  Tom  did,  after  depositing  his  luggage  and  un- 
packing his  wine,  was  to  call  at  Hardy's  rooms,  where  he 
found  his  friend  deep  as  usual  in  his  books,  the  hard-, 
worked  atlases  and  dictionaries  of  all  sorts  taking  up  more 
space  than  ever.  After  the  first  hearty  greetings,  Tom 
occupied  his  old  place  with  much  satisfaction. 

" How  long  have  you  been  up,  old  fellow?"  he  began  ; 
"  you  look  quite  settled." 

"  I  only  went  home  for  a  week.  Well,  what  have  you 
been  doing  in  the  vacation  ?  "    , 

"  Oh  !  there  was  nothing  much  going  on  ;  so  amongst 
other  things,  I've  floored  my  little-go  work." 

P  Bravo  !  you'll  find  the  comfort  of  it  now.  I  hardly 
thought  you  would  take  to  the  grind  so  easily." 

"  It's  pleasant  enough  for  a  spurt,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  I 
shall  never  manage  a  horrid  perpetual  grind  like  yours. 
But  what  in  the  world  have  you  been  doing  to  your 
walls?" 


144  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

Tom  might  well  ask,  for  the  corners  of  Hardy's  room 
were  covered  with  sheets  of  paper  of  different  sizes,  pasted 
against  the  walls  in  groups.  In  the  line  of  sight  from 
about  the  height  of  four  to  six  feet,  there  was  scarcely  an 
inch  of  the  original  paper  visible,  and  round  each  centre 
group  there  were  outlying  patches  and  streamers,  stretch- 
ing towards  floor  or  ceiling,  or  away  nearly  to  the  book- 
cases or  fireplace. 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  it  a  great  improvement  on  the  old 
paper  ?  "  said  Hardy.  "  I  shall  be  out  of  rooms  next  term, 
and  it  will  be  a  hint  to  the  college  that  the  rooms  want 
papering.  You're  no  judge  of  such  matters,  or  I  should 
ask  you  whether  you  don't  see  great  artistic  taste  in  the 
arrangement." 

"  Why,  they're  nothing  but  maps,  and  lists  of  names  and 
dates,"  said  Tom,  who  had  got  up  to  examine  the  decora- 
tions. "  And  what  in  the  world  are  all  these  queer  pins 
for  ?  "  he  went  on,  pulling  a  strong  pin  with  a  large  red 
sealing-wax  head  out  of  the  map  nearest  to  him. 

"  Hallo !  take  care  there ;  what  are  you  about?*"" 
shouted  Hardy,  getting  up  and  hastening  to  the  corner. 
•*  Why,  you  irreverent  beggar,  those  pins  are  the  famous 
statesmen  and  warriors  of  Greece  and  Rome." 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  JL  didn't  know  I  was  in  such 
august  company ;  "  saying  which,  Tom  proceeded  to  stick 
the  red-headed  pin  back  into  the  wall. 

"Now,  just  look  at  that,"  said  Hardy,  taking  the  pin  out 
of  the  place  where  Tom  had  stuck  it.  "  Pretty  doings 
there  would  be  amongst  them  with  your  management. 
This  pin  is  Brasidas ;  you've  taken  him  away  from  Nau- 
pactus,  where  he  was  watching  the  eleven  Athenian  gal- 
leys anchored  under  the  temple  of  Apollo,  and  struck  him 
down  right  in  the  middle  of  the  Pnyx,  where  he  will  be 
instantly  torn  in  pieces  by  a  ruthless  and  reckless  Jaeo- 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  145 

bin  mob.  You  call  yourself  a  Tory  indeed !  However, 
'twas  always  the  same  with  you  Tories ;  calculating,  cruel, 
and  jealous.  Use  your  leaders  up,  and  throw  them  over 
—  that's  the  golden  rule  of  aristocracies." 

"  Hang  Brasidas,"  said  Tom,  laughing ;  "  stick  him  back 
at  Naupactus  again.  Here,  which  is  Cleon  ?  The  scoun- 
drel !  give  me  hold  of  him,  and  I'll  put  him  in  a  hot 
berth." 

"  That's  he  with  a  yellow  head.  Let  him  alone,  I  tell 
you,  or  all  will  be  hopeless  confusion  when  Grey  comes 
for  his  lecture.     "We're  only  in  the  third  year  of  the  war." 

"  I  like  your  chaff  about  Tories  sacrificing  their  great 
men,"  said  Tom,  putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets  to  avoid 
temptation.  "  How  about  your  precious  democracy,  old 
fellow  ?     Which  is  Socrates  ?  " 

"  Here,  the  dear  old  boy !  —  this  pin  with  the  great  gray 
head,  in  the  middle  of  Athens,  you  see.  I  pride  myself 
on  my  Athens.  Here's  the  Piraeus  and  the  long  walls, 
and  the  hill  of  Mars.     Isn't  it  as  good  as  a  picture  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  is  better  than  most  maps,  I  think,"  said  Tom. 
"But  you're  not  going  to  slip  out  so  easily.  I  want  to 
know  whether  your  pet  democracy  did  or  did  not  murder 
Socrates." 

"  I'm  not  bound  to  defend  democracies.  But  look  at 
my  pins.  It  may  be  the  natural  fondness  of  a  parent,  but 
I  declare  they  seem  to  me  to  have  a  great  deal  of  charac- 
ter, considering  the  material.  You'll  guess  them  at  once, 
I'm  sure,  if  you  mark  the  color  and  shape  of  the  wax. 
This  one,  now,  for  instance,  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Alcibiades,"  answered  Tom,  doubtfully. 

"  Alcibiades  ! "  shouted  Hardy  ;  "  you  fresh  from  Rugby, 
and  not  know  your  Thucydides  better  than  that  ?     There's 
Alcibiades,  that  little  purple-headed,  foppish  pin,  by  Soc- 
13 


H6  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

rates..  This  rusty-colored  one  is  that  respectable  old  slick* 
in-the-mud,  Nicias." 

"  Well,  but  you've  made  Alcibiades  nearly  the  smallest 
of  the  whole  lot,"  said  Tom. 

"  So  he  was,  to  my  mind/'  said  Hardy;  "just  the  sort 
,  of  insolent  young  ruffian  whom  I  should  have  liked  to  buy 
at  my  price,  and  sell  at  his  own.  He  must  have  been 
very  like  some  of  our  gentlemen-commoners,  with  the  ad- 
dition of  brains." 

"  I  should  really  think,  though,"  said  Tom,  "  it  must  be 
a  capital  plan  for  making  you  remember  the  history." 

"  It  is,  I  flatter  myself.  I've  long  had  the  idea,  but  1 
should  never  have  worked  it  out  and  found  the  value  of  it 
but  for  Grey.  I  invented  it  to  coach  him  in  his  history 
You  see  we  are  in  the  Grecian  corner ;  over  there  is  the 
Roman ;  you'll  find  Livy  and  Tacitus  worked  out  there, 
just  as  Herodotus  and  Thucydides  are  here ;  and  the  pins 
are  stuck  for  the  Second  Punic  War,  where  we  are  just 
notf.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Grey  got  his  first,  after  all, 
he's  picking  up  so  quick  in  my  corners ;  and  says  he  never 
forgets  any  set  of  events  when  he  has  pricked  them  out 
with  the  pins." 

"  Is  he  working  at  that  school  still  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Yes,  as  hard  as  ever.  He  didn't  go  down  for  the  va- 
cation, and  I  really  believe  it  was  because  the  curate  told 
him  the  school  would  go  wrong  if  he  went  away." 

"  It's  very  plucky  of  him,  but  I  do  think  he's  a  great 
fool  not  to  knock  it  off  now,  till  he  has  passed,  don't 
jou?" 

"  No,"  said  Hardy;  "  he  is  getting  more  good  there  than 
lie  can  ever  get  in  the  schools,  though*!  hope  he'll  do  well 
in  them,  too." 

"  Well,  I  hope  so,  for  he  deserves  it.  And  now,  Hardy, 
to  cl  ange   the  subject,  I'm  going  to  give   my   first  wir.o 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  147 

next  Thursday ;  and  here's  the  first  card  which  has  gone 
out  for  it.     You'll  promise  me  to  come,  now,  wont  you  ?  " 

"  What  a  hurry  you're  in,"  said  Hardy,  taking  the  card, 
which  he  put  on  his  mantel-piece,  after  examining  it. 

u  Bui  you'll  promise  to  come,  now  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  hard  at  work,  —  I  can't  be  sure." 

u  You  needn't  stay  above  half  an  hour.  I've  brought 
back  some  famous  wine  from  the  governor's  cellar ;  and 
I  want  so  to  get  you  and  Jervis  together.  He  is  sure  to 
come." 

"  Why,  that's  the  bell  for  chapel  beginning  already," 
said  Hardy ;  "  I  had  no  notion  it  was  so  late.  I  must  be 
off,  to  put  the  new  servitor  up  to  his  work.'  Will  you 
come  in  after  Hall  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  will  come  to  me  next  Thursday." 

"  We'll  talk  about  it.  But  mind  you  come  to-night,  for 
you'll  find  me  working  Grey  in  the  Punic  Wars,  and  you'll 
see  how  the  pins  act.     I'm  very  proud  of  my  show." 

And  so  Hardy  went  off  to  chapel,  and  Tom  to  Drys- 
dale's  rooms,  not  at  all  satisfied  that  he  had  made  Hardy 
safe.  He  found  Drysdale  lolling  on  his  sofa,  as  usual,  and 
fondling  Jack.  He  had  just  arrived,  and  his  servant  and 
the  scout  were  unpacking  his  portmanteaus.  He  seemed 
pleased  to  see  Tom,  but  looked  languid  and  used  up. 

"Where  have  you  been  this  vacation?"  said  Tom. 
"  You  look  seedy." 

"  You  may  say  that,"  said  Drysdale.  "  Here,  William, 
get  out  a  bottle  of  Schiedam.  Have  a  taste  of  bitters  ? 
there's  nothing  like  it  to  set  one's  digestion  right." 

"  No,  thankee,"  said  Tom,  rejecting  the  glass  which 
William  proffered  him  ; ' "  my  appetite  don't  want  improv- 
ing." 

" You're  lucky,  then,"  said  DrysdaK  "Ah,  that's  the 
right  stuff!     I  feel  better  already." 


148  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  But  where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  Oh,  in  the  little  village.  It's  no  use  being  in  the 
country  at  this  time  of  year.  I  just  went  up  to  Limmer's, 
and  there  I  stuck,  with  two  or  three  more,  till  to-day." 

"  I  can't  stand  London  for  more  than  a  week,"  saicl  Tom. 
"  What  did  you  do  all  day  ?  " 

"We  hadn't  much  to  say  to  daylight,"  said  Drysdale 
"  What  with  theatres,  and  sparring  cribs,  and  the  Coal- 
hole, and  cider-cellars,  and  a  little  play  in  St.  James' 
Street  now  and  then,  one  wasn't  up  to  early  rising.  How- 
ever, I  was  better  than  the  rest,  for  I  had  generally  break- 
fasted by  two  o'clock." 

"  No  wonder  you  look  seedy.  You'd  much  better  have 
been  in  the  country." 

"  I  should  have  been  more  in  pocket,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Drysdale.  "  By  Jove,  how  it  runs  away  with  the  ready  ! 
I'm  fairly  cleaned  out ;  and  if  I  haven't  luck  at  van  John, 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know  how  I'm  to  get  through  term. 
But,  look  here,  here's  a  bundle  of  the  newest  songs  —  first- 
rate,  some  of  them."  And  he  threw  some  papers  across 
to  Tom,  who  glanced  at  them  without  being  at  all  edi- 
fied." 

"  You're  going  to  pull  regularly,  I  hope,  this  term,  Drys- 
dale ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so ;  it's  a  cheap  amusement,  and  I  want 
a  little  training,  for  a  change." 

"  That's  all  right." 

"  I've  brought  down  some  dresses  for  our  gypsy  busi- 
ness, by  the  way.     I  didn't  forget  that.     Is  Blake  back  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  we  sha'n't  have  time 
before  the  races." 

"  Well,  afterwards  will  do ;  though  the  days  oughtn't  to 
be  too  ;ong.  I'm  all  foi  a  little  darkness  in  masquerad- 
ing" 


TOM.  BRO.WN    AT    OXFORD.  H9 

u  There's  five  o'clock  striking.  Are  you  going  to  dine 
in  Hall?" 

"  No ;  I  shall  go  to  the  Mitre,  and  get  a  broil." 

"  Then  I'm  off.  Let's  see,  —  will  you  come  and  wine 
with  me  next  Thursday  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  only  send  us  a  card, '  to  remind.' " 

"  All  right ! "  said  Tom,  and  went  off  to  Hall,  feeling 
dissatisfied  and  uncomfortable  about  his  fast  friend,  for 
whom  he  had  a  sincere  regard. 

After  Hall,  Tom  made  a  short  round  amongst  his  ac- 
quaintance, and  then,  giving  himself  up  to  the  strongest 
attraction,  returned  to  Hardy's  rooms,  comforting  himself 
with  the  thought  that  it  really  must  be  an  act  of  Christian 
charity  to  take  such  a  terrible  reader  off  his  books  for 
once  in  a  way,  when  his  conscience  pricked  him  for  in- 
truding on  Hardy  during  his  hours  of  work.  He  found 
Grey  there,  who  was  getting  up  his  Roman  history,  under 
Hardy's  guidance ;  and  the  two  were  working  the  pins 
on  the  maps  and  lists  in  the  Roman  corner  when  Tom  ar- 
rived. He  begged  them  not  to  stop,  and  very  soon  was 
as  much  interested  in  what  they  were  doing  as  if  he  also 
were  going  into  the  schools  in  May ;  for  Hardy  had  a  way 
of  throwing  life  into  what  he  was  talking  about,  and,  like 
many  men  with  strong  opinions  and  passionate  natures, 
either  carried  his  hearers  off  their  legs  and  away  with 
him  altogether,  or  roused  every  spark  of  combativeness 
in  them.  The  latter  was  the  effect  which  his  lecture  on 
the  Punic  Wars  had  on  Tom.  He  made  several  protests 
as  Hardy  went  on ;  but  Grey's  anxious  looks  kept  him 
from  going  fairly  into  action,  till  Hardy  stuck  the  black 
pin,  which  represented  Scipio,  triumphantly  in  the  middle 
of  Carthage,  and,  turning  round,  said,  "And  now  for 
some  tea,  Grey,  before  you  have  to  turn  oui." 

Tom  opened  fire  while  the  tea  was  brewing. 
13* 


150  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

"  You  couldn't  say  any  tiling  bad  enough  about  aristoc- 
racies this  morning,  Hardy,  and  now  to-night  you  are 
crowing  over  the  success  of  the  heaviest  and  crudest  oli- 
garchy that  ever  lived,  and  praising  them  up  to  the  skies.'* 

"  Hullo  !  here's  a  breeze ! "  said  Hardy,  smiling ;  "  but 
I  rejoice,  O  Brown!  in  that  they  thrashed  the  Carthagin- 
ians, and  not,  as  you  seem  to  think,  in  that  they,  being 
aristocrats,  thrashed  the  Carthaginians ;  for  oligarchs  they 
were  not  at  this  time." 

"  At  any  rate,  they  answer  to  the  Spartans  in  the  strug- 
gle, and  the  Carthaginians  to  the  Athenians  ;  and  yet  all 
your  sympathies  are  with  the  Romans  to-night  in  the 
Punic  Wars,  though  they  were  with  the  Athenians  before 
dinner." 

"  I  deny  your  position.  The  Carthaginians  were  noth- 
ing but  a  great  trading  aristocracy  —  with  a  glorious 
family  or  two,  I  grant  you,  like  that  of  Hannibal,  but,  on 
the  whole,  a  dirty,  bargain-driving,  buy-cheap-and-sell-dear 
aristocracy  —  of  whom  the  world  was  well  rid.  They  like 
the  Athenians  indeed !  Why,  just  look  what  the  two  peo- 
ple have  left  behind  them  —  " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Tom,  "but  we  only  know  the  Car- 
thaginians through  the  reports  of  their  destroyers.  Your 
heroes  trampled  them  out  with  hoofs  of  iron." 

"  Do  you  think  the  Roman  hoof  could  have  trampled 
out  their  Homer  if  they  ever  had  one?"  said  Hardy; 
"  the  Romans  conquered  Greece,  too,  remember." 

"  But  Greece  was  never  so  near  beating  them." 

"  True.  But  I  hold  to  my  point.  Carthage  was  the 
mother  of  all  hucksters,  compassing  sea  and  land  to  sell 
her"  wares." 

"  And  no  bad  line  of  life  for  a  nation.  At  least,  English- 
men ought  to  think  so." 

"  No,  they  ought  not  *,  at  least  if  <  Punica  fides '  is  to  be 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  151 

the  rule  of  trade.  Selling  any  amount  of  Brummagem 
wares  never  did  nation  or  man  much  good  and  never  will. 
Eh,  Grey?" 

Grey  winced  at  being  appealed  to,  but  remarked  that 
he  hoped  the  Church  would  yet  be  able  to  save  England 
from  sharing  the  fate  of  Tyre  and  Carthage,  the  great 
trading  nations  of  the  old  world :  and  then,  swallowing  his 
tea,  and  looking  as  if  he  had  been  caught  robbing  a  hen- 
roost, he  made  a  sudden  exit,  and  hurried  away  out  of 
college  to  the  night-school. 

"  What  a  pity  he  is  so  odd  and  shy,"  said  Tom ;  "  I 
should  so  like  to  know  more  of  him." 

"  It  is  a  pity.  He  is  much  better  when  he  is  alone  with 
me.  I  think  he  has  heard  from  some  of  the  set  that  you 
are  a  furious  Protestant,  and  sees  an  immense  amount  of 
stiffneckedness  in  you." 

"  But  about  England  and  Carthage,"  said  Tom,  shirk- 
ing the  subject  of  his  own  peculiarities ;  "  you  don't  really 
think  us  like  them  ?  It  gave  me  a  turn  to  hear  you  trans- 
lating '  Punica  fides '  into  Brummagem  wares  just  now." 

"  I  think  that  successful  trade  is  our  rock  ahead.  The 
devil  who  holds  new  markets  and  twenty  per  cent  profits 
in  his  gift  is  the  devil  that  England  has  most  to  fear  from. 
*  Because  of  unrighteous  dealings,  and  riches  gotten  by  de- 
ceit, the  kingdom  is  translated  from  one  people  to  another,' 
said  the  wise  man.  Think  of  that  opium  war  the  other 
day:  I  don't  believe  we  can  get  over  many  more  such 
businesses  as  that.  Grey  falls  back  on  the  Church,  you 
see,  to  save  the  nation  ;  but  the  Church  he  dreams  of  will 
never  do  it.  Is  there  any  that  can  ?  There  must  be, 
surely,  Ur  we  have  believed  a  lie.  But  this  work  of  mak- 
ing trade  righteous,  of  Christianizing  trade,  looks  like  the 
very  hardest  the  Gospel  has  ever  had  to  take  in  hand  — 
in  England,  at  any  rate." 


152  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

Hardy  spoke  slowly  and  doubtfully,  and  paused  as  if 
asking  for  Tom's  opinion. 

"  I  never  heard  it  put  in  that  way.  I  know  very  little 
of  politics  or  the  state  of  England.  But  come,  now ;  the 
putting  down  the  slave  trade  and  compensating  our  plant- 
ers, that  shows  that  we  are  not  sold  to  the  "trade  devil  yet, 
surely." 

"I  don't  think  we  are.  No,  thank  God,  there  are 
plenty  of  signs  that  we  are  likely  to  make  a  good  fight  of 
it  yet." 

They  talked  together  for  another  hour,  drawing  their 
chairs  round  to  the  fire,  and  looking  dreamily  into  the  embers 
as  is  the  wont  of  men  who  are  throwing  out  suggestions,  and 
helping  one  another  to  think,  rather  than  arguing.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  Tom  left  Hardy  to  his  books,  and  went 
away  laden  with  several  new  ideas,  one  of  the  clearest  of 
which  was  that  he  was  awfully  ignorant  of  the  contempo- 
rary history  of  his  own  country,  and  that  it  was  the  thing 
of  all  others  which  he  ought  to  be  best  informed  in,  and 
thinking  most  about.  So,  being  of  an  impetuous  turn  of 
mind,  he  went  straight  to  his  rooms  to  commence  his  new 
study,  where,  after  diligent  hunting,  the  only  food  of  the 
kind  he  required  which  turned  up  was  the  last  number  of 
Bell s  Life  from  the  pocket  of  his  greatcoat.  Upon  this  he 
fell  to  work,  in  default  of  any  thing  better,  and  was  soon 
deep  in  the  P.R.  column,  which  was  full  of  interesting  spec- 
ulations as  to  the  chances  of  Bungaree  in  his  forthcom- 
ing campaign  against  the  British  middle-weights.  By  the 
time  he  had  skimmed  through  the  well-known  sheets,  he 
was  satisfied  that  the  columns  of  his  old  acquaintance  were 
not  the  place,  except  in  the  police  reports,  wheft  much 
could  be  learnt  about  the  present  state  or  future  prospects 
of  England.     Then,  the  first  evening  of  term  being  a  rest- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  153 

less  time,  he  wandered  out  again,  and  before  long  landed, 
as  his  custom  was,  at  Drysdale's  door. 

On  entering  the  room  he  found  Drysdale  and  Blake  alone 
together,  the  former  looking  more  serious  than  Tom  had 
ever  seen  him  before.  As  for  Blake,  the  restless,  haggard 
expression  sat  more  heavily  than  ever  on  his  face,  marring 
its  beauty,  and  almost  making  it  impossible  to  look  on  with- 
out a  shudder.  It  was  clear  that  they  changed  the  subject 
of  their  talk  abruptly  on  his  entrance ;  so  Tom  looked  any- 
where except  straight  before  him  as  he  was  greeting  Blake. 
He  really  felt  very  sorry  for  him  at  the  moment.  How- 
ever, in  another  five  minutes,  he  was  in  fits  of  laughter 
over  Blake's  description  of  the  conversation  between  him- 
self and  the  coachman  who  had  driven  the  Glo'ster  day- 
mail  by  which  he  had  come  up:  in  which  conversation, 
nevertheless,  when  Tom  came  to  think  it  over  and  try  to 
repeat  it  afterwards,  the  most  facetious  parts  seemed  to  be 
the  "  sez  he's  "  and  "  sez  I's  "  with  which  Jehu  larded  his 
stories ;  so  he  gave  up  the  attempt,  wondering  what  he 
could  have  found  in  it  to  laugh  at. 

"  By  the  way,  Blake,"  said  Drysdale,  "  how  about  our 
excursion  into  Berkshire  masquerading  this  term  ?  Are 
you  game  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Blake  ;  "  I  really  must  make  the 
most  of  such  time  as  I  have  left,  if  I'm  to  go  into  the 
schools  this  term." 

"  If  there's  one  thing  which  spoils  Oxford,  it  is  those 
schools,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  they  get  in  the  way  of  every 
thing.  I  ought  to  be  going  up  for  smalls  myself  next  term, 
and  I  haven't  opened  a  book  yet,  and  don't  mean.  Follow 
a  good  example,  old  fellow,  you're  cock-sure  of  your  first, 
everybody  knows." 

"  I  wish  everybody  would  back  his  opinion  and  give  me 


154  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

a  shade  of  odds.  Why,  I  have  scarcely  thought  of  my 
history." 

"  Why  the  D  —  1  should  they  make  such  a  fuss  about 
history  ?  One  knows  perfectly  well  that  those  old  black- 
guard heathens  were  no  better  than  they  should  be ;  and 
what  good  it  can  do  to  lumber  one's  head  with  who  their 
grandmothers  were,  and  what  they  ate,  and  when  and 
where  anil  why  they  had  their  stupid  brains  knocked  out, 
I  can't  see  for  the  life  of  me." 

"  Excellently  well  put.  Where  did  you  pick  up  such 
sound  views,  Drysdale  ?  But  you  are  not  examiner  yet, 
and  on  the  whole  I  must  rub  up  my  history  somehow.  I 
wish  I  knew  how  to  do  it." 

"  Can't  you  put  on  a  coach  ?  "  said  Drysdale. 

"I  have  one  on,  but  history  is  his  weak  point,"  said 
Blake. 

"  I  think  I  can  help  you,"  said  Tom.  "  I've  just  been 
hearing  a  lecture  in  Roman  history,  and  one  that  wont 
be  so  easy  to  forget  as  most ; "  and  he  went  on  to  explain 
Hardy's  plans,  to  which  Blake  listened  eagerly. 

"  Capital ! "  he  said,  when  Tom  had  finished.  "  In 
whose  rooms  did  you  say  they  are  ?  " 

"In  Hardy's,  and  he  works  at  them  every  night  with 
Grey." 

"  That's  the  queer  big  servitor,  his  particular  pal,"  put 
in  Drysdale  ;  "  there's  no  accounting  for  tastes." 

"  You  don't  know  him,"  retorted  Tom ;  "  and  the  less 
you  say  about  him  the  better." 

"  I  know  he  wears  highlows  and  short  flannels,  and — " 

"  Would  you  mind  asking  Hardy  to  let  me  come  to  his 
lectures?"  interrupted  Blake,  averting  the  strong  lan- 
guage which  was  rising  to  Tom's  lips.  "I  think  they 
seem  just  the  things  I  want.  I  shouldn't  like  to  offer  to 
pa\  him,  unless  you  think  —  " 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  155 

"I'm  quite  sure,"  interrupted  Tom,  "that  lie  wont  take 
any  thing.  I  will  ask  him  to-morrow  whether  he  will  let 
you  come,  and  he's  such  a  kind,  good  fellow  that  I'm  al- 
most sure  he  will/' 

"I  should  like  to  know  your  pal,  too,  Brown,"  said 
Drysdale  ;  "  you  must  introduce  me,  with  Blake." 

"  No,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do,"  said  Tom. 

"  Then  I  shall  introduce  myself,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  see 
if  I  don't  sit  next  him  now  at  your  wine  on  Thursday." 

Here  Drysdale's  scout  entered,  with  two  notes,  and 
wished  to  know  if  Mr.  Drysdale  would  require  any  thing 
more.  Nothing  but  hot  water;  he  could  put  the  kettle 
on,  Drysdale  said,  and  go ;  and  while  the  scout  was  ful- 
filling his  orders,  he  got  up  carelessly,  whistling,  and, 
walking  to  the  fire,  read  the  notes  by  the  light  of  one 
of  the  candles  which  was  burning  on  the  mantel-piece. 
Blake  was  watching  him  eagerly,  and  Tom  saw  this,  and 
made  some  awkward  efforts  to  go  on  talking  about  the 
advantages  of  Hardy's  plan  for  learning  history ;  but  he 
was  talking  to  deaf  ears,  and  soon  came  to  a  standstill. 
He  saw  Drysdale  crumple  up  the  notes  in  his  hand  and 
shove  them  into  his  pocket.  After  standing  for  a  few 
seconds  in  the  same  position,  with  his  back  to  them,  he 
turned  round  with  a  careless  air,  and  "sauntered  to  the 
table  where  they  were  sitting. 

"  Let's  see,  what  were  we  saying  ?  "  he  began.  "  Oh, 
about  your  eccentric  pal,  Brown." 

"You've  answers  from  both?"  interrupted  Blake. 
Drysdale  nodded,  and  was  beginning  to  speak  again  to 
Tom,  when  Blake  got  up  and  said,  with  white  lips,  "  I 
must  see  them." 

"No,  never  mind,  what  does  it  matter?" 

"  Matter !  by  Heaven,  I  must  and  will  see  them  now." 

Tom  saw  at  once  that  he  had  better  go,  and  so  took  up 


156  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

his  cap,  wished  them  good-night,  and  went  off  to  his  own 

rooms. 

He  might  have  been   sitting   there  for  about   twenty 

minutes,  when  Drysdale  entered. 

"I  couldn't  help  coming   over,  Brown,"  he  said;  "I 

must  talk  to  some  one,  and  Blake  has  gone  off  raging.     I 

don't  know  what  he'll  do  —  I  never  was  so  bothered  or 
savage  in  my  life." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Tom ;  "  he  looked  very  bad  in 
your  rooms.     Can  I  do  any  thing  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  must  talk  to  some  one.  You  know  —  no 
you  don't,  by  the  way  —  but,  however,  Blake  got  me  out 
of  a  tremendous  scrape  in  my  first  term,  and  there's 
nothing  that  I'm  not  bound  to  do  for  him,  and  wouldn't 
do  if  I  could.  Yes,  by  George,  whatever  fellows  say  of 
me,  they  shall  never  say  I  didn't  stand  by  a  man  who 
has  stood  by  me.  Well,  he  owes  a  dirty  £300  or  £400, 
or  something  of  the  sort  —  nothing  worth  talking  of  I 
know  —  to  people  in  Oxford,  and  they've  been  leading 
him  a  dog's  life  this  year  and  more.  Now,  he's  just 
going  up  for  his  degree,  and  two  or  three  of  these  credi- 
tors—  the  most  rascally,  of  course  —  are  sueing  him  in 
the  Vice-Chancellor's  Court,  thinking  now's  the  time  to 
put  the  screw  on.  He  will  be  ruined  if  they  are  not 
stopped  somehow.  Just  after  I  saw  you  to-day,  he  came 
to  me  about  it.  You  never  saw  a  fellow  in  such  a  state ; 
I  could  see  it  was  tearing  him  to  pieces,  telling  it  to  me 
even.  However,  I  soon  set  him  at  ease  as  far  as  I  was 
concerned ;  but,  as  the  Devil  will  have  it,  I  can't  lend  him 
the  money,  though  £G0  would  get  him  over  the  exami- 
nation, and  then  he  can  make  terms.  My  guardian  ad- 
vanced me  £200  beyond  my  allowance  just  before  Easter, 
and  I  haven't  £20  left,  and  the  bank  here  has  given  me 
notice  not  to  overdraw  any  more.     However,  I  thought  to 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  157 

settle  it  easily  enough ;  so  I  told  him  to  meet  me  at  the 
Mitre  in  half  an  hour  for  dinner,  and  when  he  was  gone 
I  sat  down  and  wrote  two  notes  —  the  first  to  St.  Cloud. 
That  fellow  was  with  us  on  and  off  in  town,  and  one  night 
he  and  I  went  partners  at  roulette,  I  finding  ready  money 
for  the  time,  gains  and  losses  to  be  equally  shared  in  the 
end.  I  left  the  table  to  go  and  eat  some  supper,  and  he 
lost  £80,  and  paid  it  out  of  my  money.  I  didn't  much 
care,  and  he  cursed  the  luck,  and  acknowledged  that  he 
owed  me  £40  at  the  time.  Well,  I  just  reminded  him 
of  this  £40  and  said  I  should  be  glad  of  it  (I  know  he  has 
plenty  of  money  just  now),  but  added,  that  it  might  stand 
if  he  would  join  me  and  Blake  in  borrowing  £60 ;  I  was 
fool  enough  to  add  that  Blake  was  in  difficulties,  and  I 
was  most  anxious  to  help  him.  As  I  thought  that  St. 
Cloud  would  probably  pay  the  £40  but  do  no  more,  I 
wrote  also  to  Chanter  —  Heaven  knows  why,  except  that 
the  beast  rolls  in  money,  and  has  fawned  on  me  till  I've 
been  nearly  sick  this  year  past  —  and  asked  him  to  lend 
Blake  £50  on  our  joint  note  of  hand.  Poor  Blake  !  when 
I  told  him  what  I  had  done  at  the  Mitre,  I  think  I  might 
as  well  have  stuck  the  carving-knife  into  him.  TVe  had 
a  wretched  two  hours ;  then  you  came  in,  and  I  got  my 
two  answers  —  here  they  are." 

Tom  took  the  proffered  notes,  and  read :  — 

"Dear  Drysdale,  —  Please  explain  the  allusion  in 
yours  to  some  mysterious  £40.  I  remember  perfectly 
the  occurrence  to  which  you  refer  in  another  part  of  your 
note.  You  were  tired  of  sitting  at  the  table,  and  went  off 
to  supper,  leaving  me  (not  by  my  own  desire)  to  play  for 
you  with  your  money.  I  did  so,  and  had  aborainable 
luck,  as  you  will  remember,  for  I  handed  you  back  a  sadly 
dwindled  heap  on  your  return  to  the  table.  I  hope  you 
are  in  no  row  about  that  night  ?  I  shall  be  quite  ready 
14 


158  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

to  give  evidence  of  what  passed  if  it  will  help  you  in  any 
way.     I  am  always  yours  very  truly, 

"  A.  St.  Ci  oud. 

"P.S.  I  must  decline  the  little  joint  operation  for 
Blake's  benefit,  which  you  propose." 

The  second  answer  ran  :  — 

"  Dear  Drysdale, — I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  accom- 
modate Mr.  Blake,  as  a  friend  of  yours,  but  you. see  his 
acceptance  is  mere  waste  paper,  and  you  cannot  give 
security  until  you  are  of  age,  so  if  you  were  to  die  the 
money  would  be  lost.  Mr.  Blake  has  always  carried  his 
head  as  high  as  if  he  had  £5,000  a  year  to  spend ;  per- 
haps now  he  will  turn  less  haughty  to  men  who  could 
buy  him  up  easy  enough.     I  remain  yours  sincerely, 

"Jabez  Chanter." 

Tom  looked  up,  and  met  Drysdale's  eyes,  which  had 
more  of  purpose  in  them  than  he  had  ever  seen  before. 
"  Fancy  poor  Blake  reading  those  two  notes,"  he  said, 
"  and  'twas  I  brought  them  on  him.  However,  he  shall 
have  the  money  somehow  to-morrow,  if  I  pawn  my  watch. 
I'll  be  even  with  those  two  some  day."  The  two  re- 
mained in  conference  for  some  time  longer ;  it  is  hardly 
worth  while  to  do  more  than  relate  the  result. 

At  three  o'clock  the  next  day,  Blake,  Drysdale,  and 
Tom  were  in  the  back-parlor  of  a  second-rate  inn,  in  the 
corn-market ;  on  the  table  were  pens  and  ink,  some  cases 
of  eau-de-Cologne  and  jewellery,  and  behind  it  a  fat  man 
of  forbidding  aspect,  who  spent  a  day  or  two  in  each  term 
at  Oxford.  He  held  in  his  thick  red,  damp  hand,  orna- 
mented as  to  the  fore-finger  with  a  huge  ring,  a  piece  of 
paper. 

"  Then  I  shall  draw  for  a  hundred-and-five  ?  " 

a  If  you  do,  we  wont  sign,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  now,  be 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  159 

quick,  Ben"  (the  fat  man's  name  was  Benjamin),  "you 
infernal  shark,  we've  been  wrangling  long  enough  over 
it     Draw  for  £100,  at  three  months,  or  we  are  off." 

"  Then,  Mr.  Drysdale,  you  gents  will  take  part  in  goods. 
T  wish  to  do  all  I  can  for  gents  as  comes  well  introduced, 
but  money  is  very  scarce  just  now." 

"  Not  a  stuffed  bird,  bottle  of  eau-de-Cologne,  ring,  or 
cigar,  will  we  have ;  so  now,  no  more  nonsense,  put  clown 
£75  on  the  table." 

The  money-lender,  after  another  equally  useless  attempt 
to  move  Drysdale,  who  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  who 
spoke,  produced  a  roll  of  notes,  and  counted  out  £75, 
thinking  to  himself  that  he  would  make  this  young  spark 
sing  a  different  tune  before  very  long.  He  then  filled  up 
the  piece  of  paper,  muttering  that  the  interest  was  nothing, 
considering  the  risk,  and  he  hoped  they  would  help  him 
to  something  better  with  some  of  their  friends.  Drysdale 
reminded  him,  in  terms  not  too  carefully  chosen,  that  he 
was  getting  cent  per  cent.  The  document  was  signed,  — 
Drysdale  took  the  notes,  and  they  went  out. 

"Well,  that's  well  over,"  said  Drysdale  as  they  walked 
towards  High  Street.  "  I'm  proud  of  my  tactics,  I  must 
say ;  one  does  much  better  for  anybody  than  for  one's  self. 
If  I  had  been  on  my  own  hook  that  fellow  would  have 
let  me  in  for  £20  worth  of  stuffed  birds  and  bad  jewellery. 
Let's  see,  what  do  you  want,  Blake  ?  " 

"  Sixty  will  do,"  said  Blake. 

"  You  had  better  take  £G5  ;  there'll  be  some  law  costi 
to  pay."     And  Drysdale  handed  him  the  notes. 

"  Now,  Brown,  shall  we  divide  the  balance  —  a  fiver 
apiece  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Tom,  "  I  don't  want  it ;  and,  as 
you  two  are  to  hold  me  harmless,  you  must  do  what  you 


160  TOM  BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

like  with  the  money."  So  Drysdale  pocketed  the  £10, 
after  which  they  walked  in  silence  to  the  gates  of  St.  Am- 
brose. The  most  reckless  youngster  doesn't  begin  this 
sort  of  thing  without  reflections  which  are  apt  to  keep 
him  silent.  At  the  gates,  Blake  wrung  both  their  hands. 
"  I  don't  say  much,  but  I  sha'n't  forget  it."  He  got  out 
the  words  with  some  difficulty,  and  went  off  to  his  rooms. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MUSCULAR    CHRISTIANITY. 

Within  the  next  week  or  two  several  important  events 
had  happened  to  one  and  another  of  our  St.  Ambrose 
friends.  Tom  had  introduced  Blake  to  Hardy,  after  some 
demur  on  the  part  of  the  latter.  Blake  was  his  senior  by 
a  term ;  might  have  called  on  him  any  time  these  three 
years ;  why  should  he  want  to  make  his  acquaintance 
now  ?  But  when  Tom  explained  to  him  that  it  would  be 
a  kind  thing  to  let  Blake  come  and  coach  up  history  with 
him,  for  that  unless  he  took  a  high  degree  in  the  coming 
examination,  he  would  have  to  leave  the  college,  and  prob- 
ably be  ruined  for  life,  Hardy  at  once  consented. 

Tom  did  not  venture  to  inquire  for  a  day  or  two  how 
the  two  hit  it  off  together.  "When  he  began  cautiously  to 
approach  the  subject,  he  was  glad  to  find  that  Hardy  liked 
Blake.  "  He  is  a  gentleman,  and  very  able,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  curious  to  see  how  quickly  he  is  overhauling  Grey, 
and  yet  how  Grey  takes  to  him.  He  has  never  looked 
scared  at  him  (as  he  still  does  at  you,  by  the  way)  since 
the  first  night  they  met.  Blake  has  the  talent  of  setting 
people  at  their  ease  without  saying  any  thing.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  Grey  thinks  he  has  sound  Church  notions.  It's 
a  dangerous  talent,  and  may  make  a  man  very  false  if  he 
doesn't  take  care."  Tom  asked  if  Blake  would  be  up  in 
his  history  in  time.  Hardy  thought  he  might,  perhaps ; 
but  he  had  great  lee-way  to  make  up.  If  capacity  for 
taking  in  cram  would  do  it,  he  would  be  all  right.  He 
14* 


1G2  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

had  been  well  crammed  in  his  science,  and  had  put  him 
(Hardy)  up  to  many  dodges  which  might  be  useful  in  the 
schools,  and  which  you  couldn't  get  without  a  private 
tutor. 

Then  Tom's  first  wine  had  gone  off  most  successfully. 
Jervis  and  Miller  had  come  early  and  stayed  late,  and 
said  all  that  was  handsome  of  the  port,  so  that  he  was 
already  a  social  hero  with  the  boating  set.  Drysdale,  of 
course,  had  been  there,  rattling  away  to  everybody  in'  his 
reckless  fashion,  and  setting  a  good  example  to  the  two 
or  three  fast  men  whom  Tom  knew  well  enough  to  ask, 
and  who  consequently  behaved  pretty  well,  and  gave 
themselves  no  airs,  though,  as  they  went  away  together, 
they  grumbled  slightly  that  Brown  didn't  give  claret.  The 
rest  of  the  men  had  shaken  together  well,  and  seemed  to 
enjoy  themselves.  The  only  drawback  to  Tom  had  been 
.that  neither  Hardy  nor  Grey  had  appeared.  They  ex- 
cused themselves  afterwards  on  the"  score  of  reading,  but 
Tom  felt  aggrieved  in  Hardy's  case ;  he  knew  that  it  was 
only  an  excuse. 

Then  the  training  had  begun  seriously.  Miller  had 
come  up  specially  for  the  first  fortnight,  to  get  them  well 
in  hand,  as  he  said.  After  they  were  once  fairly  started, 
he  would  have  to  go  down  till  just  before  the  races ;  but 
he  thought  he  might  rely  on  the  captain  to  keep  them  up 
to  their  work  in  the  interval. 

So  Miller,  the  coxswain,  took  to  drawing  the  bow  up 
to  the  ear  at  once.  At  the  very  beginning  of  term,  five 
or  six  weeks  before  the  races,  the  St.  Ambrose  beat  was 
to  be  seen  every  other  day  at  Abingdon ;  and  early  din- 
ners, limitation  of  liquids  and  tobacco,  and  abstinence  from 
late  supper  parties,  pastry,  ice,  and  all  manner  of  trash 
likely,  in  Miller's  opinion,  to  injure  nerve  or  wind,  were 
banging  over  the  crew,  and  already,  in  fact,  to  some  ex- 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  163 

tent,  enforced.  The  captain  shrugged  his  shoulders,  sub- 
mitted to  it  all  himself,  and  worked  away  with  impertur- 
bable temper,  merely  hinting  to  Miller,  in  private,  that 
he  was  going  too  fast,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
keep  it  up.  Diogenes  highly  approved ;  he  would  have 
become  the  willing  slave  of  any  tyranny  which  should  in- 
sist that  every  adult  male  subject  should  pull  twenty  miles, 
and  never  imbibe  more  than  a  pint  of  liquid  in  the  twenty- 
four  hours.  Tom  was  inclined  to  like  it,  as  it  helped  him  to 
realize  the  proud  fact  that  he  was  actually  in  the  boat.  The 
rest  of  the  crew  were  in  all  stages  of  mutiny,  and  were  only 
kept  from  breaking  out  by  their  fondness  for  the  captain, 
and  the  knowledge  that  Miller  was  going  in  a  few  days. 
As  it  was,  Blake  was  the  only  one  who  openly  rebelled ; 
once  or  twice  he  stayed  away.  Miller  swore  and  grum- 
bled, the  captain  shook  his  head,  and  the  crew  in  general 
rejoiced. 

It  is  to  one  of  these  occasions  to  which  we  must  now 
turn.  If  the  usual  casual  voyager  of  -novels  had  been 
standing  on  Sandford  lock  at  about  four,  on  the  afternoon 
of  April  — th,  18 — ,  he  might  have  beheld  the  St.  Am- 
brose eight-oar  coming  with  a  steady  swing  up  the  last 
reach.  If  such  voyager  were  in  the  least  conversant  with 
the  glorious  mystery  of  rowing,  he  would  have  felt  his 
heart  warm  at  the  magnificent  sweep  and  life  of  the 
stroke,  and  would,  on  the  whole,  have  been  pleased  with 
the  performance  of  the  crew  generally,  considered  as 
a  college  crew  in  the  early  stages  of  training.  They 
came  u  hard  all "  up  to  the  pool  below  the  lock,  the  cox- 
swain standing  in  the  stern,  with  a  tiller-rope  in  each 
hand;  and  then  shipped  oars ;  the  lock-gates  opened,  and 
the  boat  entered,  and  in  another  minute  or  two  was  moored 
to  the  bank  above  the  lock,  and  the  crew  strolled  into  the 
little  inn  which  stands  by  the  lock,  and,  after  stopping  in 


164.  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

the  bar  to  lay  hands  on  several  pewters  full  of  porter, 
passed  through  the  house  into  the  quoit  and  skittle  grounds 
behind.  These  were  already  well  filled  with  men  of  other 
crews,  playing  in  groups,  or  looking  on  at  the  players. 
One  of  these  groups,  as  they  passed,  seized  on  the  cap- 
tain, and  Miller  stopped  with  him ;  the  rest  of  the  St. 
Ambrose  men,  in  no  humor  for  skittles,  quoits,  or  any  re- 
laxation except  rest  and  grumbling,  took  possession  of  , 
the  first  table  and  seats  which  offered,  and  came  to  an- 
chor. Then  followed  a  moment  of  intense  enjoyment,  of 
a  sort  only  appreciable  by  those  who  have  had  a  twelve 
miles'  training  pull  with  a  coxswain  as  sharp  as  a  needle 
and  in  an  awful  temper. 

"  Ah,"  said  Drysdale,  taking  a  pewter  down  from  hi3 
lips,  with  a  sigh,  and  handing  it  to  Tom,  who  sat  next 
him,  "  by  Jove,  I  feel  better." 

"  It's  almost  worth  while  pulling  '  hard  all '  from  Abing- 
don, to  get  such  a  thirst,"  said  another  of  the  crew. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  though,"  said  Drysdale,  "  to-day's 
the  last  day  you'll  catch  me  in  this  blessed  boat." 

Tom  had  just  finished  his  draught,  but  did  not  reply ; 
it  was  by  no  means  the  first  time  that  Drysdale  had  an- 
nounced this  resolve.     The  rest  were  silent  also. 

"  It's  bad  enough  to  have  to  pull  your  heart  out,  with- 
out getting  abused  all  the  way  into  the  bargain.  There 
Miller  stands  in  the  stern  —  and  a  devilish  easy  thing  it 
is  to  stand  there  and  walk  into  us  —  I  can  see  him  chuckle 
as  he  comes  to  you  and  me,  Brown  — '  Now,  2,  well  for- 
ward.' '  3,  don't  jerk.'  *  Now,  2,  throw  your  weight  on 
the  oar ;  come,  now,  you  can  get  another  pound  on.'  I 
hang  on  like  grim  Death.  Then  it's,  *  Time,  2 ;  now, 
3—'" 

"  Well,  it's  a  great  compliment,"  broke  in  Tom,  with  a 
la  igh :  "  he  thinks  he  can  make  something  of  us." 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  1C5 

"  He'll  make  nothing  of  us  first,  I  think,"  said  Drys- 
dale.  "  I've  lost  eight  pounds  in  a  fortnight.  The  cap- 
tain ought  to  put  me  in  every  place  in  the  boat,  in  turn, 
to  make  it  watertight.  I've  larded  the  bottom ,  boards  un- 
der my  seat  so  that  not  a  drop  of  water  will  ever  come 
through  again." 

"  A  very  good  thing  for  you,  old  fellow,"  said  Diogenes  ; 
•  you  look  ten  times  better  than  you  did  at  the  beginning 
of  term." 

"I  don't  know  wliat  you  call  a  good  thing,  you  old 
fluter.  I'm  obliged  to  sit  on  my  hip-bones ;  I  can't  go  to 
lecture ;  all  the  tutors  think  I'm  poking  fun  at  them,  and 
put  me  on  directly.  I  haven't  been  able  to  go  to  lecture 
this  ten  days." 

"  So  fond  of  lecture  #as  he  is,  too,  poor  fellow,"  put  in 
Tom. 

"  But  they've  stopped  my  commons  for  staying  away," 
6aid  Drysdale ;  "  not  that  I  care  much  for  that,  though." 

"  Well,  Miller  goes  down  to-morrow  morning  —  I  heard 
him  say  so,"  said  another. 

"  Then  we'll  memorialize  the  captain,  and  get  out  of 
these  Abingdon  pulls.  Life  isn't  worth  having  at  this 
rate." 

"  No  other  boat  has  been  below  Sandford,  yet." 

And  so  they  sat  on  and  plotted,  and  soon  most  of  the 
other  crews  started.  And  then  they  took  their  turn  at 
Bkittles,  and  almost  forgot  their  grievances,  which,  in  order 
to  be  clear,  I  must  now  explain  to  those  of  my  readers 
who  don't  know  the  river  at  Oxford. 

Tlie  river  runs  along  the  south  of  the  city,  getting  into 
the  university  quarter  after  it  passes  under  the  bridge  con- 
necting Berks  and  Oxfordshire,  over  which  is  the  road  to 
Abingdon.  Just  below  this  bridge  are  the  boat-builders' 
establishments,  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  and  then  on  the 


1C6  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Oxfordshire  side  is  Christchurch  Meadow,  oppos.te  which 
is  moored  the  university  barge.  Here  is  the  goal  of  all 
university  races,  or  used  to  be  in  the  times  I  am  speaking 
of;  and  the  racecourse  stretches  away  down  the  river  for 
a  mile  and  a  half,  and  a  little  below  the  starting-place  of 
the  races  in  Iffley  Lock.  The  next  lock  below  Iffley  is 
the  Sandford  Lock  (where  we  left  our  boat's  crew  playing 
at  skittles),  which  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  below  Iffley. 
Below  Sandford  there  is  no  lock  till  you  get  to  Abingdon, 
a  distance  of  six  miles  and  more  by  the  river.  Now,  in- 
asmuch as  the  longest  distance  to  be  rowed  in  the  races  is 
only  the  upper  mile  and  a  half  from  Iffley  to  the  univer- 
sity barge,  of  course,  all  the  crews  think  themselves  very 
hardly  treated  if  they  are  taken  further  than  to  Sandford. 
Pulling  "  hard  all "  from  Sandfor4  to  Iffley,  and  then  again 
from  Iffley  over  the  regular  course,  ought  to  be  enough  in 
all  conscience  to  chorus  the  crews ;  and  most  captains  and 
coxswains  give  in.  But  here  and  there  some  enemy  of 
his  kind  —  some  uncomfortable,  worriting,  energizing  mor- 
tal, like  Miller  —  gets  command  of  a  boat,  and  then  the 
unfortunate  crew  are  dragged,  bemoaning  their  fate,  down 
below  Sandford,  where  no  friendly  lock  intervenes  to  break 
.off  the  long,  steady  swing  of  the  training-pull  every  two 
miles ;  and  the  result  for  the  time  is  blisters  and  mutiny ; 
though  I  am  bound  to  add  that  it  generally  tells,  and  that 
the  crew  which  has  been  undergoing  that  peine  forte  et 
dure  is  very  apt  to  get  the  change  out  of  it  on  the  nights 
of  hard  races. 

So  the  St.  Ambrose  crew  played  out  their  skittles,  and 
settled  to  appeal  to  the  captain  in  a  body  the  next  day, 
after  Miller's  departure ;  and  then,  being  summoned  to 
the  boat,  they  took  to  the  water  again,  and  paddled  stead* 
ily  up  home,  arriving  just  in  time  for  Hall  for  those  who 
liked  to  hurry.     Drysdale  never  liked  hurrying  himself; 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  167 

besides,  he  could  not  dine  in  Hall,  as  he  was  discommonsed 
for  persistent  absence  from  lectures,  and  neglect  to  go  to 
the  dean,  when  sent  for  to  explain  his  absence. 

"  I  say,  Brown,  hang  Hall,"  he  said  to  Tom,  who  wa3 
throwing  on  his  things ;  "  come  and  dine  with  me  at  the 
Mitre.  I'll  give  you  a  bottle  of  hock ;  it's  very  good 
there." 

"  Hock's  about  the  worst  thing  you  can  drink  in  train- 
ing," said  Miller;  "isn't  it,  Jervis?" 

"  It's  no  good,  certainly,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  put  on 
his  cap  and  gown.     "  Come  along,  Miller." 

"  There,  you  hear  ?  "  said  Miller.  "  You  can  drink  a 
glass  of  sound  sherry,  if  you  want  wine."  And  he  fol- 
lowed the  captain. 

Drysdale  performed  a  defiant  pantomime  after  the  re- 
tiring coxswain,  and  then  easily  carried  his  point  with 
Tom,  except  as  to  the  hock.  So  they  walked  up  to  the 
Mitre  together,  where  Drysdale  ordered  dinner  and  a  bot- 
tle of  hock  in  the  coffee-room. 

"  Don't  order  hock,  Drysdale  ;  I.sha'n't  drink  any." 

"  Then  I  shall  have  it  all  to  my  own  cheek.  If  you  be- 
gin making  a  slave  of  yourself  to  that  Miller,  he'll  very 
soon  cut  you  down  to  a  glass  of  water  a  day,  with  a  pinch 
of  rhubarb  in  it,  and  make  you  drink  that  standing  on 
your  head." 

"  Gammon ;  but  I  don't  think  it's  fair  on  the  rest  of  the 
crew  not  to  train  as  well  as  one  can." 

"  You  don't  suppose  drinking'  a  pint  of  hock  to-night 
will  make  me  pull  any  the  worse  this  day  six  weeks,  when 
the  races  begin,  do  you  ?  " 

«No;  but—" 

"  Hullo !  look  here,"  said  Drysdale,  who  was  inspecting 
a  printed  bill  pinned  up  on  the  wall  of  the  coffee-room ; 
"  Wombwell's  menagerie  is  in  the  town,  somewhere  down 


168  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

by  "Worcester.  What  fun !  We'll  go  there  after  din- 
ner." 

The  food  arrived  with  Drysdale's  hock,  which  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  all  the  more  from  the  assurance  which  every  glass 
gave  him  that  he  was  defying  the  coxswain,  and  doing 
just  the  thing  he  would  most  dislike.  So  he  drank  away, 
and  facetiously  speculated  how  he  could  be  such  an  idiot 
as  to  go  on  pulling.  Every  day  of  his  life  he  made  good 
resolutions  in  the  reach  above  the  Gut  that  it  should  be 
his  last  performance,  and  always  broke  them  next  day. 
He  supposed  the  habit  he  had  of  breaking  all  good  reso- 
lutions was  the  way  to  account  for  it. 

After  dinner,  they  set  off  to  find  the  wild  beast  show ; 
and,  as  they  will  be  at  least  a  quarter  of  an  hour  reaching 
it,  for  the  pitch  is  in  a  part  of  the  suburbs  little  known  to 
gownsmen,  I  propose  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  making 
a  few  remarks  to  the  patient  reader. 

Our' hero,  on  his  first  appearance  in  public,  some  years 
since,  was,  without  his  own  consent,  at  once  patted  on  the 
back  by  the  good-natured  critics,  and  enrolled  for  better 
for  worse  in  the  brotherhood  of  muscular  Christians,  who 
at  that  time  were  beginning  to  be  recognized  as  an  actual 
and  lusty  portion  of  general  British  life.  As  his  biogra- 
pher, I  am  not  about  to  take  exceptions  to  his  enrolment ; 
for,  after  considering  the  persons  up  and  down  her  maj- 
esty's dominions  to  whom  the  new  nickname  has  been 
applied,  the  principles  which  they  are  supposed  to  hold, 
and  the  sort  of  lives  they  are  supposed  to  lead,  I  cannot 
see  where  he  could  in  these  times  have  fallen  upon  a  no- 
bler brotherhood.  I  am  speaking,  of  course,  under  cor- 
rection, and  with  only  a  slight  acquaintance  with  the  faith 
of  muscular  Christianity,  -gathered  almost  entirely  from 
the  witty  expositions  and  comments  of  persons  of  a  some- 
what dyspeptic  habit,  who  are  not  amongst  the  faithful 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  1G9 

themselves.  Indeed,  I  am  not  aware  that  any  authorized 
articles  of  belief  have  been  sanctioned  or  published  by 
the  sect,  church,  or  whatever  they  may  be.  Moreover,  at 
the  age  at  which  our  hero  has  arrived,  and  having  regard 
to  his  character,  I  should  say  that  he  has  in  all  likelihood 
thought  very  little  on  the  subject  of  belief,  and  would 
scarcely  be  able  to  give  any  formal  account  of  his  own, 
beyond  thai  contained  in  the  Church  Catechism,  which  I, 
for  one,  think  may  very  well  satisfy  him  for  the  present. 
Nevertheless,  had  he  been  suddenly  caught  at  the  gate  of 
St.  Ambrose's  College,  by  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  do 
the  classifying  for  the  British  public,  and  accosted  with, 
"  Sir,  you  belong  to  a  body  whose  creed  is  to  love  God, 
and  wralk  one  thousand  miles  in  one  thousand  hours,"  I  be- 
lieve he  would  have  replied,  "  Do  I,  sir  ?  I'm  very  glad 
to  hear  it.  They  must  be  a  very  good  set  of  fellows !  how 
many  weeks'  training  do  they  allow  ?  " 

But  in  the  course  of  my  inquiries  on  the  subject  of 
muscular  Christians,  their  works  and  ways,  a  fact  has 
forced  itself  on  my  attention,  which  for  the  sake  of  in- 
genious youth,  like  my  hero,  ought  not  to  be  passed  over. 
I  find  then,  that  side  by  side  with  these  muscular  Chris- 
tians, and  apparently  claiming  some  sort  of  connection 
"with  them  (the  same  concern,  as  the  pirates  of  trade- 
marks say),  have  risen  up  another  set  of  persons,  against 
whom  I  desire  to  caution  my  readers  and  my  hero,  and  to 
warn  the  latter  that  I  do  not  mean  on  any  pretence  what- 
ever to  allow*  him  to  connect  himself  with  them,  however 
much  he  may  be  taken  with  their  off-hand,  "  hail-brother 
well-met "  manner  and  dress,  which  may  easily  lead  care- 
less observers  to  take  the  counterfeit  for  the  true  article. 
I  must  call  the  perso  is  in  question  "musclemen,"  as  dis- 
tinguished from  muscular  Christians ;  the  only  point  in 
common  between  the  two  being,  that  both  hold  it  to  be  a 
15 


170  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

good  tiling  to  have  strong  and  well-exercised  bodies,  ready 
to  be  put  at  the  shortest  notice  to  any  work  of  which  bodies 
are  capable,  and  to  do  it  well.  Here  all  likeness  ends,  for 
the  muscleman  seems  to  have  no  belief  whatever  as  to  the 
purposes  for  which  his  body  has  been  given  him,  except 
some  lazy  idea  that  it  is  to  go  up  and  down  the  world  with 
him,  belaboring  men  and  captivating  women  for  his  ben- 
efit or  pleasure,  at  once  the  servant  and  fermenter  of 
those  fierce  and  brutal  passions  which  he  seems  to  think 
it  a  necessity,  and  rather  a  fine  thing  than  otherwise,  to 
indulge  and  obey.  Whereas,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  least 
of  the  muscular  Christians  has  hold  of  the  old  chivalrous 
and  Christian  belief,  that  a  man's  body  is  given  him  to  be 
trained  and  brought  into  subjection,  and  th%n  used  for  the 
protection  of  the  weak,  the  advancement  of  all  righteous 
causes,  and  the  subduing  of  the  earth  which  God  has 
given  to  the  children  of  men.  He  does  not  hold  that 
mere  strength  or  activity  are  in  themselves  worthy  of  any 
respect  or  worship,  or  that  one  man  is  a  bit  better  than 
another  because  he  can  knock  him  down,  or  carry  a  big- 
ger sack  of  potatoes  than  he.  For  mere  power,  whether 
of  body  or  intellect,  he  has  (I  hope  and  believe)  no  rev- 
erence whatever,  though,  cceteris  paribus,  he  would  proba- 
bly himself,  as  a  matter  of  taste,  prefer  the  man  who  can 
lift  a  hundredweight  round  his  head  with  his  little  finger, 
to  the  man  who  can  construct  a  string  of  perfect  Sorites, 
or  expound  the  doctrine  of  "  contradictory  inconceiva- 
bles." 

The  above  remarks  occur  as  our  hero  is  marching  in- 
nocently down  towards  his  first  "  town  and  gown "  row, 
and  I  should  scarcely  like  to  see  him  in  the  middle  of  it, 
without  protesting  that  it  is  i  mistake.  I  know,  that  he, 
and  other  youngsters  of  his  kidney,  will  have  fits  of  fight- 
ing, or  desiring  to  fight  with  their  poorer  brethren,  just  &3 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  171 

children  have  the  measles.  But  the  shorter  the  fit  the 
better  for  the  patient,  for,  like  the  measles,  it  is  a  great 
mistake,  and  a  most  unsatisfactory  complaint.  If  they  t 
can  escape  it  altogether  so  much  the  better.  But  instead 
of  treating  the  fit  as  a  disease,  musclemen  professors  are 
wont  to  represent  it  as  a  state  of  health,  and  to  let  their 
disciples  run  about  in  middle  age  with  the  measles  on 
them  as  strong  as  ever.  'Now  although  our  hero  had  the 
measles  on  him  at  this  particular  time,  and  the  passage  of 
arms  which  I  am  about  shortly  to  describe  led  to  results 
of  some  importance  in  his  history,  and  cannot  therefore  be 
passed  over,  yet  I  wish  at  the  same  time  to  disclaim,  both 
in  my  sponsorial  and  individual  character,  all  sympathy 
with  town  and  gown  rows,  and  with  all  other  class  rows 
and  quarrels  of  every  sort  and  kind,  whether  waged  with 
sword,  pen,  tongue,  fist,  or  otherwise.  Also  to  say  that  in 
all  such  rows,  so  far  as  I  have  seen  or  read,  from  the 
time  when  the  Roman  plebs  marched  out  to  Mons  Sacer, 
down  to  1848,  when  the  English  chartists  met  on  Ken-  . 
nington  Common,  the  upper  class  are  most  to  blame.  It 
may  be  that  they  are  not  the  aggressors  on  any  given  occa- 
sion :  very  possibly  they  may  carry  on  the  actual  fighting 
with  more  fairness  (though  this  is  by  no  means  true  as  a 
rule)  ;  nevertheless,  the  state  of  feeling  which  makes  such 
things  possible,  especially  in  England,  where  men  in  gen- 
eral are  only  too  ready  to  be  led  and  taught  by  their  supe- 
riors in  rank,  may  be  fairly  laid  at  their  door.  Even  in 
the  case  of  strikes,  which  just  now  will  of  course  be  at 
once  thrown  in  my  teeth,  I  say  fearlessly,  Let  any  man 
take  the  trouble  to  study  the  question  honestly,  and  he  will 
come  to  the  conviction  that  all  combinations  of  the  men 
for  the  purpose  of  influencing  the  labor  market,  whether 
in  the  much  and  unjustly  abused  Trades'  Societies,  or  in 
other  forms,  have  been  defensive  organizations,  and  that 


172  T03I    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

the  masters  might,  as  a  body,  over  and  over  again  Lava 
taken  the  sting  out  of  them  if  they  would  have  acted 
fairly,  is  many  individuals  amongst  them  have  done: 
whether  it  may  not  be  too  late  now,  is  a  tremendous 
question  for  England,  but  one  which  time  only  can  decide. 

When  Drysdale  and  Tom  at  last  found  the  caravans,  it 
was  just  getting  dark.  Something  of  a  crowd  had  col- 
lected outside,  and  there  was  some  hissing  as  they  as- 
cended the  short  flight  of  steps  which  led  to  the  platform 
in  front  of  the  show ;  but  they  took  no  notice  of  it,  paid 
their  money,  and  entered. 

Inside  they  found  an  exciting  scene.  The  place  was 
pretty  well  lighted,  and  the  birds  and  beasts  were  all  alive 
in  their  several  dens  and  cages,  walking  up  and  down,  and 
each  uttering  remonstrances  after  their  own  manner,  the 
shrill  notes  of  birds  mingling  with  the  moan  of  the  beasts 
of  prey  and  chatterings  of  the  monkeys.  Feeding  time 
had  been  put  off  till  night  to  suit  the  undergraduates,  and 
the  undergraduates  were  proving  their  appreciation  of  the 
attention  by  playing  off  all  manner  of  practical  jokes  on 
birds  and  beasts,  their  keepers,  and  such  of  the  public  as 
had  been  rash  enough  to  venture  in.  At  the  further  end 
was  the  keeper,  who  did  the  showman,  vainly  endeavoring 
to  go  through  his  usual  jog-trot  description.  His  mono- 
tone was  drowned  every  minute  by  the  chorus  of  voices, 
each  shouting  out  some  new  fact  in  natural  history  touch- 
ing the  biped  or  quadruped  whom  the  keeper  was  attempt- 
ing to  describe.  At  that  day  a  great  deal  of  this  sort  of 
chaff  was  current,  so  that  the  most  dunderheaded  boy  had 
plenty  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  A  small  and  indignant 
knot  of  townspeople,  headed  by  a  stout  and  severe  mid- 
dle-aged woman,  with  two  big  boys,  her  sons,  followed  the 
keeper,  endeavoring  by  caustic  remarks   and  withering 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  178 

glances  to  stop  the  flood  of  chaff,  and  restore  legitimate 
authority  and  the  reign  of  keeper  and  natural  history. 

At  another  point  was  a  long  Irishman  in  cap  and  gown, 
who  had  clearly  had  as  much  wine  as  he  could  carry,  close 
to  the  bars  of  the  panther's  den,  through  which  he  was 
earnestly  endeavoring,  with  the  help  of  a  crooked  stick, 
to  draw  the  tail  of  whichever  of  the  beasts  stopped  for  a 
moment  in  its  uneasy  walk.  On  the  other  side  were  a 
set  of  men  bent  on  burning  the  wretched  monkeys'  fingers 
with  the  lighted  ends  of  their  cigars,  in  which  they  seemed 
successful  enough,  to  judge  by  the  angry  chatterings  and 
shriekings  of  their  victims. 

The  two  new-comers  paused  for  a  moment  on  the  plat- 
form inside  the  curtain ;  and  then  Drysdale,  rubbing  his 
hands,  and  in  high  glee  at  the  sight  of  so  much  misrule  in 
so  small  a  place,  led  the  way  down  on  the  floor  deep  in 
sawdust,  exclaiming,  "  Well,  this  is  a  lark !  "We're  just  in 
for  all  the  fun  of  the  fair." 

Tom  followed  his  friend,  who  made  straight  for  the 
showman,  and  planted  himself  at  his  side,  just  as  that 
worthy,  pointing  with  his  pole,  was  proceeding  — 

"  This  is  the  jackal,  from  —  " 

"  The  Caribee  Hielands,  of  which  I  am  a  native  my- 
sel', "  shouted  a  gownsman. 

"  This  is  the  jackal,  or  lion's  provider,"  began  again  the 
much-enduring  keeper. 

"  Who  always  goes  before  the  lion  to  purwide  his  pur- 
wisions,  purwiding  there's  any  thing  to  purwide,"  put  in 
Drysdale. 

"  —  really  I  do  think  it's  scandalous  not  to  let  the 
keeper  tell  about  the  beasteses,"  said  the  unfortunate  ma- 
tron, with  a  half  turn  towards  the  persecutors,  and  grasp* 
5ng  her  bag. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  Drysdale,  in  his  softest  voice, 
15* 


174  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  I  assure  you  he  knows  nothing  about  the  beasteses.  "We 
are  Doctor  Buckland's  favorite  pupils,  are  also  well  known 
to  the  great  Panjandrum,  and  have  eaten  more  beasteses 
than  the  keeper  has  ever  seen." 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  young  man,  but  you  don't 
know  how  to  behave  yourselves,"  rejoined  the  outraged  fe- 
male ;  and  the  keeper,  giving  up  the  jackal  as  a  bad  job, 
pointing  with  his  pole,  proceeded  — 

"  The  little  hanimal,  in  the  upper  cage  is  the  hopossum, 
of  North  America  —  " 

"  The  misguided  offspring  of  the  raccoon  and  the  gum- 
tree,"  put  in  one  of  his  tormentors. 

Here  a  frightful  roaring  and  struggling  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, mingled  with  shouts  of  laughter,  and  "  Hold  on, 
Pat!"  "Go  it,  panther !"  interrupted  the  lecture,  and 
caused  a  rush  to  the  other  side,  where  the  long  Irishman, 
Donovan  by  name,  with  one  foot  against  the  bars,  was 
holding  on  to  the  tail  of  one  of  the  panthers,  which  he  had 
at  length  managed  to  catch  hold  of.  The  next  moment  he 
was  flat  on  his  back  in  the  sawdust,  and  his  victim  was 
bounding  wildly  about  the  cage.  The  keeper  hurried 
away  to  look  after  the  outraged  panther ;  and  Drysdale, 
at  once  installing  himself  as  showman,  began  at  the  next 
cage  — 

"  This  is  the  wild  man  of  the  woods,  or  whangee  tangee, 
the  most  untamable  —  good  heavens,  ma'am,  take  care  ! " 
and  he  seized  hold  of  the  unfortunate  woman  and  pulled 
her  away  from  the  bars. 

"  Oh,  goodness  ! "  she  screamed,  "  it's  got  my  tippet ;  O, 
Bill,  Peter,  catch  hold  ! "  Bill  and  Peter  proved  unequal 
to  the  occasion,  but  a  gownsman  seized  the  vanishing  tip- 
pet, and  after  a  moment's  struggle  with  the  great  ape,  re- 
stored a  meagre  half  to  the  proper  owner,  while  Jacko 
Bat  grinning  over  the  other  half,  and  picking  it  to  pieces. 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  175 

The  poor  woman  had  now  had  enough  of  it,  and  she 
hurried  off  with  her  two  boys,  followed  by  a  few  towns- 
people who  were  still  in  the  show,  to  lay  her  case  directry  , 
before  the  mayor,  as  she  informed  the  delinquents  from 
the  platform  before  disappearing.  Her  wrongs  were 
likely  to  be  more  speedily  avenged,  to  judge  by  the  angry 
murmurs  whirh  arose  outside  immediately  after  her  exit. 

But  still  the  high  jinks  went  on,  Donovan  leading  all 
mischief,  until  the  master  of  the  menagerie  appeared  in- 
side and  remonstrated  with  the  men.  He  must  send  for 
a  police,  he  said,  if  they  would  not  leave  the  beasts  alone. 
He  had  put  off  the  feeding  in  order  to  suit  them ;  would 
they  let  his  keepers  feed  the  beasts  quietly  ?  The  threat 
of  the  police  was  received  with  shouts  of  defiance  by  some 
of  the  men,  though  the  greater  part  seemed  of  the  opinion 
that  matters  were  getting  serious. 

The  proposal  for  feeding,  however,  was  welcomed  by  all 
and  comparative  quiet  ensued  for  some  ten  minutes,  while 
the  baskets  of  joints,  bread,  stale  fish,  and  potatoes  were 
brought  in,  and  the  contents  distributed  to  the  famishing 
occupants  of  the  cages.  In  the  interval  of  peace  the 
showman-keeper,  on  a  hint  from  his  master,  again  began 
his  round.  But  the  spirit  of  mischief  was  abroad,  and  it 
only  needed  this  to  make  it  break  out  again.  In  another 
two  minutes  the  beasts,  from  the  lion  to  the  smallest 
monkey,  were  struggling  for  their  suppers  with  one  or 
more  undergraduates  ;  the  elephant  had  torn  the  gown  off 
Donovan's  back,  having  only  just  missed  his  arm;  and  the 
manager,  in  a  confusion  worthy  of  the  tower  of  Babel,  sent 
off  a  keeper  for  the  city  police,  and  turned  the  gas  out. 

The  audience,  after  the  first  moment  of  surprise  and 
indignation,  grouped  their  way  towards  the  steps  and 
mounted  the  platform,  where  they  held  a  council  of  war. 
Should  they  stay  where  they  were  or  make  a  sally  at  once, 


176  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

break  through  the  crowd  and  get  back  to  their  collegC3. 
It  was  curious  to  see  how  in  that  short  minute  individual 
character  came  out,  and  the  coward,  the  cautious  man,  the 
resolute,  prompt  Englishman,  each  were  there,  and  more 
than  one  species  of  each. 

Donovan  was  one  of  the  last  up  the  steps,  and  as  he 
stumbled  up  caught  something  of  the  question  before  the 
house.  He  shouted  loudly  at  once  for  descending,  and  of- 
fering battle.  "  But,  boys,"  he  added,  "  first  wait  till  I  ad- 
dress the  meeting,"  and  he  made  for  the  opening  in  the 
canvas  through  which  the  outside  platform  was  reached. 
Stump  oratory  and  a  free  fight  was  just  the  two  temp- 
tations which  Donovan  was  wholly  unable  to  resist ;  and 
it  was  with  a  face  radiant  with  devil-may-care  delight 
that  he  burst  through  the  opening,  followed  by  all  the  rest 
(who  felt  that  the  matter  was  out  of  their  hands,  and  must 
go  its  own  way  after  the  Irishman),  and  rolling  to  the  front 
of  the  outside  platform  rested  one  hand  on  the  rail,  and 
waved  the  other  gracefully  towards  the  crowd.  This  was 
the  signal  for  a  burst  of  defiant  shouts  and  hissing.  Don- 
ovan stood  blandly  waving  his  hand  for  silence.  Drys- 
dale,  running  his  eye  over  the  mob,  turned  to  the  rest  and 
said,  "  There's  nothing  to  stop  us,  not  twenty  grown  men  in 
the  whole  lot."  Then  one  of  the  men,  lighting  upon  the 
drum-sticks,  which  the  usual  man  in  corduroys  had  hidden 
away,  began  beating  the  big  drum  furiously.  One  of  the 
unaccountable  whims  which  influence  crowds  seized  on  the 
mob,  and  there  was  almost  perfect  silence.  This  seemed 
to  take  Donovan  by  surprise  ;  the  open  air  was  having  the 
common  effect  on  him ;  and  he  was  getting  unsteady  on 
his  legs,  and  his  brains  were  wandering.  "  Now's  your 
time,  Donovan,  my  boy,  begin." 

"  Ah,  yes,  to  be  sure,  what'll  I  say  ?  let's  see,"  said 
Donovan,  putting  his  head  on  one  side  — 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  177 

u  Friends,  Romans,  countrymen,"  suggested  some  wag. 

"  To  be  sure,"  cried  Donovan ;  "  Friends,  Romans, 
countrymen,  lend  me  your  ears." 

"  Bravo,  Pat,  well  begun ;  pull  their  ears  well  when 
you've  got  'em." 

"  Bad  luck  to  it !  where  was  I  ?  you  divels  —  I  mean 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Oxford  city  as  I  was  saying,  the 
poets  —  " 

Then  the  storm  of  shouting  and  hissing  arose  again,  and 
Donovan,  after  an  ineffectual  attempt  or  two  to  go  on,  leaned 
forward  and  shook  his  fist  generally  at  the  mob.  Luckily 
for  him,  there  were  no  stones  about ;  but  one  of  the  crowd, 
catching  the  first  missile  at  hand,  which  happened  to  be  a 
cabbage  stalk,  sent  it  with  true  aim  at  the  enraged  orator. 
He  jerked  his  head  on  one  side  to  avoid  it ;  the  motion 
unsteadied  his  cap  ;  he  threw  up  his  hand,  which,  instead 
of  catching  the  falling  cap,  as  it  wras  meant  to  do,  sent  it 
spinning  among  the  crowd  below.  The  owner,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  clapped  both  hands  on  the  bar  be- 
fore him  and  followed  his  property,  vaulting  over  on  to  the 
heads  of  those  nearest  the  platform,  amongst  whom  he  fell, 
scattering  them  right  and  left. 

"  Come  on,  gown,  or  he'll  be  murdered,"  sang  out  one ' 
of  Donovan's  friends.  Tom  was  one  of  the  first  down  the 
steps ;  they  rushed  to  the  spot  in  another  moment,  and 
the  Irishman  rose,  plastered  with  dirt,  but  otherwise  none 
the  worse  for  his  feat ;  his  cap,  covered  wTith  mud,  was 
proudly  stuck  on,  hind  part  before.  He  was,  of  course, 
thirsting  for  battle,  but  not  quite  so- much  master  of  his 
strength  as  usual ;  so  his  two  friends,  who  were  luckily 
Btrong  and  big  men,  seized  him,  one  to  each  arm. 

"Come  along,  keep  together,"  was  the  word;  "thfre's 
no  time  to  lose.     Push  for  the  corn-market." 

The  cry  of  "  Town  !  town ! "  now  rose  on  all  sidca. 


178  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

The  gownsmen  in  a  compact  body,  with  Donovan  in  the 
middle,  pushed  rapidly  across  the  open  space  in  which 
the  caravans  were  set  up  and  gained  the  street.  Here 
they  were  comparatively  safe :  they  were  followed  close, 
but  could  not  be  surrounded  by  the  mob.  And  now  again 
a  bystander  might  have  amused  himself  by  noting  the 
men's  characters.  Three  or  four  pushed  rapidly  on,  and 
were  out  of  sight  ahead  in  no  time.  The  greater  part, 
without  showing  any  actual  signs  of  fear,  kept  steadily  on, 
at  a  good  pace :  close  behind  these,  Donovan  struggled 
violently  with  his  two  conductors,  and  shouted  defiance  to 
the  town ;  while  a  small  and  silent  rear-guard,  amongst 
whom  were  Tom  and  Drysdale,  walked  slowly  and,  to  all 
appearance,  carelessly  behind,  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
crowd  of  shouting  boys  who  headed  the  advancing  town. 
Tom  himself  felt  his  heart  beating  quick,  and  I  don't  think 
had  any  particular  desire  for  the  fighting  to  begin,  with 
such  Long  odds  on  the  town  side ;  but  he  was  resolved  to 
be  in  it  as  soon  as  any  one  if  there  was  to  be  any.  Thua 
they  marched  through  one  or  two  streets  without  any 
thing  more  serious  than  "an  occasional  stone  passing  their 
ears.  Another  turn  would  have  brought  them  into  the 
open  parts  of  the  town,  within  hearing  of  the  colleges, 
when  suddenly  Donovan  broke  loose  from  his  supporters, 
and  rushing  with  a  shout  on  the  advanced  guard  of  the 
town,  drove  them  back  in  confusion  for  some  yards.  The 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  back  him  up ;  so  the  rear-guard, 
shouting  "  Gown !  gown  !  "  charged  after  him.  The  effect 
of  the  onset  was  like  that  of  Blount  at  Flodden,  when  he 
saw  Marmion's  banner  go  down,  —  a  wide  space  was 
cleared  for  a  moment,  the  town  driven  back,  on  to  the 
pavements  and  up  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  the  rescued 
Donavan  caught,  set  on  his  legs,  and  dragged  away  again 
6ome  paces  toward*  college.     But  the  charging  body  was 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  179 

ioo  few  in  number  to  improve  the  first  success,  or  even  to 
insure  its  own  retreat.  "  Darkly  closed  the  war  around." 
The  town  lapped  on  them  from  the  pavements,  and 
poured  on  them  down  the  middle  of  the  street,  before 
they  had  time  to  rally  and  stand  together  again.  "What 
happened  to  the  rest  —  who  was  down,  who  up,  who 
fought,  who  fled,  —  Tom  had  no  time  to  inquire ;  for  he 
found  himself  suddenly  the  centre  of  a  yelling  circle  of 
enemies.  So  he  set  his  teeth  and  buckled  to  his  work  ; 
and  the  thought  of  splendid  single  combat,  and  glory  such 
as  he  had  read  of  in  college  stories,  and  tradition  handing 
him  down  as  the  hero  of  that  great  night,  flashed  into  his 
head  as  he  cast  his  eye  round  for  foemen  worthy  of  his 
steel.  None  such  appeared ;  so,  selecting  the  one  most  of 
his  own  size,  he  squared  and  advanced  on  him.  But  the 
challenged  one  declined  the  combat,  and  kept  retreating  ; 
while  from  behind,  and  the  sides,  one  after  another  of  the 
"  town  "  rushing  out  dealt  Tom  a  blow  and  vanished  again 
into  the  crowd. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  kept  his  head  and  temper ; 
the  assailants,  individually,  were  too  insignificant  to  put 
out  his  strength  upon  ;  but  head  and  temper  were  rapidly 
going ;  he  was  like  a  bull  in  the  arena,  with  the  picadores 
sticking  their  little  javelins  in  him.  A  smart  blow  on 
the  nose,  which  set  a  myriad  of  stars  dancing  before  hia 
eyes,  finished  the 'business,  and  he  rushed  after  the  last 
assailant,  dealing  blows  to  right  and  left,  on  small  and 
great.  The  mob  closed  in  on  him,  still  avoiding  attacks 
in  front,  but  on  flank  and  rear  they  hung  on  him,  and  bat- 
tered at  him.  He  had  to  turn  sharply  round  after  every 
step  to  shake  himself  clear,  and  at  each  turn  the  press 
thickened,  the  shouts  waxed  louder  and  fiercer ;  lie  began 
to  get  unsteady ;  tottered,  swayed,  and,  stumbling  over  a 
prostrate  youth,  at  last  went  down  full  length  on  to  the 


1^0  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

pavement,  carrying  a  couple  of  his  assailants  with  him, 
And  now  it  would  have  fared  hard  with  him,  and  he 
would  scarcely  have  reached  college  with  sound  bones,  — 
for  1  am  sorry  to  say  an  Oxford  town  mob  is  a  cruel  and 
brutal  one,  and  a  man  who  is  down  has  no  chance  with 
them,  —  but  that  for  one  moment  he  and  his  prostrate 
foes  were  so  jumbled  together  that  the  town  could  not 
get  at  him,  and  the  next,  the  cry  of  "  Gown  !  gown  ! "  rose 
high  above  the  din ;  the  town  were  swept  back  again  by 
the  rush  of  a  reinforcement  of  gownsmen,  the  leader  of 
whom  seized  him  by  the  shoulders  and  put  him  on  his 
legs  again ;  while  his  late  antagonists  crawled  away  to  the 
side  of  the  road. 

"  Why,  Brown ! "  said  his  rescuer,  —  Jervis,  the  cap- 
tain, —  "  this  you  ?     Not  hurt,  eh  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Tom. 

"  Good ;  come  on,  then ;  stick  to  me." 

In  three  steps  they  joined  the  rest  of  the  gown,  now 
numbering  some  twenty  men.  The  mob  was  close  before 
them,  gathering  for  another  rush.  Tom  felt  a  cruel,  wild 
devil  beginning  to  rise  in  him :  he  had  never  felt  the  like 
before.  This  time  he  longed  for  the  next  crash,  which, 
happily  for  him,  was  fated  never  to  come  off. 

"  Your  names  and  colleges,  gentlemen,"  said  a  voice 
close  behind  them,  at  this  critical  moment.  The  "  town  " 
set  up  a  derisive  shout,  and,  turning  round,  the  gownsmen 
found  the  velvet  sleeves  of  one  of  the  proctors  at  their  el- 
bow, and  his  satellites,  vulgarly  called  bulldogs,  taking 
notes  of  them.  They  were  completely  caught,  and  so 
quietly  gave  the  required  information. 

"  You  will  go  to  your  colleges*  at  once,"  said  the  proctor, 
"  and  remain  within  gates.  You  will  see  these  gentlemen 
to  the  High  Street,"  he  added .  to  his  marshal,  and  then 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  181 

strode  on  after  the  crowd,  which  was  vanishing  down  the 
street. 

The  men  turned  and  strode  towards  the  High  Street, 
the  marshal  keeping,  in  a  deferential  but  wide-awake  man- 
ner, pretty  close  to  them,  but  without  making  any  show 
of  watching  them.  "When  they  reached  the  High  Street, 
he  touched  his  hat,  and  said,  civilly,  "  I  hope  you  will  go 
home  now,  gentlemen  ;  the  senior  proctor,  is  very  strict." 

"  All  right,  marshal ;  good-night,"  said  the  good-natured 
ones. 

a  D —  his  impudence,"  growled  one  or  two  of  the  rest,  and 
the  marshal  bustled  away  after  his  master.  The  men  looked 
at  one  another  for  a  moment  or  two.  They  were  of  dif- 
ferent colleges,  and  strangers.  The  High  Street  was 
quiet :  so,  without  the  exchange  of  a  word,  after  the  man- 
ner of  British  youth,  they  broke  up  into  twos  and  threes, 
and  parted.  Jervis,  Tom,  and  Drysdale,  who  turned  up 
quite  undamaged,  sauntered  together  towards  St.  Am- 
brose's. • 

"  I  say,  where  are  we  going  ?  "  said  Drysdale. 

"  Not  to  college,  I  vote,"  said  Tom. 

"  No  ;  there  may  be  some  more  Tun." 

"  Mighty  poor  fun,  I  should  say,  you'll  find  it,"  said  Jer- 
vis ;  "  however,  if  you  will  stay,  I  suppose  I  must.  I 
can't  leave  you  two  boys  by  yourselves." 

"  Come  along,  then,  down  here."  So  they  turned  down 
one  of  the  courts  leading  out  of  the  High  Street,  and  so, 
by  back  streets,  bore  up  again  for  the  disturbed  districts. 

"  Mind  and  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for  the  proctors,"  said 
Jervis ;  "  as  much  row  as  you  please,  but  we  mustn't  be 
caught  again." 

"  Well,  only  let's  keep  together,  if  we  have  to  bolt." 

They  promenaded  in  lonely  dignity  for  some  five  min- 
utes, keeping  eyes  and  ears  on  full  strain. 
16 


182  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Diysdale,  at  last,  "  it  isn't  fair, 
these  enemies  in  the  camp  ;  what  with  *  the  town '  and  their 
stones  and  fists,  and  the  proctors  with  their  'name  and  col- 
lege/ we've  got  the  wrong  end  of  the  stick." 

- "  Both  wrong  ends,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Jervis.     "  Hol- 
loa, Brown,  your  nose  is  bleeding." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  Tom,  drawing  his  hand  across  his  face ; 
"  'twas  that  confounded  little  fellow,  then,  who  ran  up  to 
my  side  while  I  was  squaring  at  the  long  party.  I  felt  a 
sharp  crack,  and  the  little  rascal  bolted  into  the  crowd  be- 
fore I  could  turn  at  him." 

"  Cut  and  come  again,"  said  Drysdale,  laughing. 

"  Ay,  that's  the  regular  thing  in  these  blackguard  street 
squabbles.  Here  they  come,  then,"  said  Jervis.  "  Steady, 
ftll." 

They  turned  round  to  face  the  town,  which  came  shout- 
ing down  the  street  behind  them,  M  pursuit  of  one  gowns- 
man, a  little,  harmless,  quiet  fellow,  who  had  fallen  in' 
with  them  on  his  way  back  to  his  college  from  a  tea  with 
his  tutor,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  was  giving  them  leg-bail 
as  hard  as  he  could  foot  it.  But  the  little  man  was  of  a 
courageous,  though  prudent,  soul,  and  turned,  panting  and 
gasping,  on  his  foes  the  moment  he  found  himself  amongst 
friends  again. 

"  Now,  then,  stick  together ;  don't  let  them  get  around 
us,"  said  Jervis. 

They  walked  steadily  down  the  street,  which  was  luck- 
ily a  narrow  one,  so  that  three  of  them  could  keep  the 
whole  of  it,  halting  and  showing  front  every  few  yards, 
when  the  crowd  pressed  too  much.  "  Down  with  them ! 
Town,  town !  That's  two  as  was  in  the  show."  "  Mark 
the  velvet-capped  chap.  Town,  town ! "  shouted  the 
hinder  part  of  the  mob ;  but  it  was  a  rabble  of  boys,  as 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  183 

before,  and  the  front  rank  took  very  good  care  of  itself, 
and  forbore  from  close  quarters. 

The  small  gownsman  had  now  got  his  wind  again,  and, 
smarting  under  the  ignominy  of  his  recent  flight,  was  al- 
ways a  pace  or  two  nearer  the  crowd  than  the  other  three, 
ruffling  up  like  a  little  bantam,  and  shouting  defiance  be- 
tween the  catchings  of  his  breaih. 

"  You  vagabonds !  you  cowards !  Come  on  now,  I  say ! 
Gown,  gown  ! "  And  at  last,  emboldened  by  the  repeated 
halts  of  the  mob,  and  thirsting  for  revenge,  he  made  a  dash 
at  one  of  the  nearest  of  the  enemy.  The  suddenness  of 
the  attack  took  both  sides  by  surprise,  then  came  a  rush 
by  two  or  three  of  the  town  to  the  rescue. 

"  No,  no !  stand  back  —  one  at  a  time,"  shouted  the  cap- 
tain, throwing  himself  between  the  combatants  and  the 
mob.  "  Go  it,  little  'un  ;  serve  him  out.  Keep  the  rest 
back,  boys ;  steady !  "•  Tom  and  Drysdale  faced,  towards 
the  crowd,  while  the  little  gownsman  and  his  antagonist  — 
who  defended  himself  vigorously  enough  now  —  came  to 
close  quarters,  in  the  rear  of  the  gown  line  ;  too  close  to 
hurt  one  another,  but  what  with  hugging  and  cuffing,  the 
townsman  in  another  half-minute  was  sitting  quietly  on 
the  pavement  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  his  enemy 
squaring  in  front  of  him,  and  daring  him  to  renew  the  com- 
bat. "  Get  up,  you  coward  ;  get  up,  I  say,  you  coward  ! 
He  wont  get  up,"  said  the  little  man,  eagerly  turning  to 
the  captain.     "  Shall  I  give  him  a  kick  ?  " 

"  No,  let  the  cur  alone  "  replied  Jervis.  "  Now,  do  any 
more  of  you  want  to  fight  ?  Come  on,  like  men,  one  at  a 
time.     I'll  fight  any  man  in  the  crowd." 

Whether  the  challenge  would  have  been  answered  must 
rest  uncertain  ;  for  now  the  crowd  began  to  look  back,  and 
a  cry  arose,  "  Here  they  are,  proctors !  now7  they'll  run." 


184  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  So  we  must,  by  Jove,  Brown,"  said  tiie  captain. 
u  What's  your  college  ?  "  to  the  little  hero. 

"  Pembroke." 

"  Cut  away,  then  ;   you're  close  at  home." 

«  Very  well,  if  I  must ;  good-night,"  and  away  went  the 
small  man  as  fast  as  he  had  come  ;  and  I  have  never 
heard  that  he  came  to  further  grief  or  performed  other 
feats  that  night  not  here  set  down. 

"  Hang  it,  don't  let's  run,"  said  Drysdale. 

"  Is  it  the  proctors  ?  "  said  Tom.     "I  can't  see  them." 

"Mark  the  bloody-faced  one ;  kick  him  over,"  sang  out 
a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  Thankee,"  said  Tom,  savagely.  "  Let's  have  one  rush 
at  them." 

"  Look !  there's  the  proctor's  cap  just  through  them ; 
come  along,  boys — well,  stay  if  you  like,  and  be  rusticated, 
I'm  off; "  and  away  went  Jervis,  and  the  next  moment 
Tom  and  Drysdale  followed  the  good  example,  and  as  they 
had  to  run,  made  the  best  use  of  their  legs,  and  in  two 
minutes  were  well  ahead  of  their  pursuers.  They  turned 
a  corner ;  "  Here,  Brown  !  a  light  in  this  public,  cut  in 
and  it's  all  right."  Next  moment  they  were  in  the  dark 
passage  of  a  quiet  little  inn,  and  heard  with  a  chuckle  part 
of  the  crowd  scurry  by  the  door  in  pursuit,  while  they 
themselves  suddenly  appeared  in  the  neat  little  bar,  to  the 
no  small  astonishment  of  its  occupants.  These  were 
a  stout,  elderly  woman  in  spectacles,  who  was  stitching 
away  at  plain  work  in  an  arm-chair  on  one  side  of  the  fire ; 
the  foreman  of  one  of  the  great  boat-builders,  who  sat  oppo- 
site her,  smoking  his  pipe,  with  a  long  glass  of  clear  ale  at 
his  elbow ;  and  a  bright-eyed,  neat-handed  barmaid,  who 
was  leaning  against  the  table,  and  talking  to  the  others  as 
they  entered. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

the;  captain's  notions. 

The  old  lady  dropped  her  work,  the  barmaid  turned 
round  with  a  start  and  little  ejaculation,  and  the  foreman 
stared  with  all  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  and  then,  jumping 
up,  exclaimed,  — 

"Bless  us,  if  it  isn't  Muster  Drysdale  and  Muster 
Brown,  of  Ambrose's.  Why,  what's  the  matter,  sir? 
Muster  Brown,  you  be  all  covered  wi'  blood,  sir." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  poor  young  gentleman ! "  cried  the  host- 
ess. "  Here}  Patty,  run  and  tell  Dick  to  go  for  the  doctor, 
and  get  the  best  room  ! " 

"  No,  please  don't ;  it's  nothing  at  all,"  interrupted  Tom, 
laughing.  "  A  basin  of  cold  water  and  a  towel,  if  you 
please,  Miss  Patty,  and  I  shall  be  quite  presentable  in  a 
minute.     I'm  very  sorry  to  have  frightened  you  all." 

Drysdale  joined  in  assurances  that  it  was  nothing  but  a 
little  of  his  friend's  "  claret,"  which  he  would  be  all  the 
better  for  losing,  and  watched  with  an  envious  eye  the  in- 
terest depicted  in  Patty's  pretty  face,  as  she  hurried  in 
with  a  basin  of  fresh  pumped  water,  and  held  the  towel 
while  Tom  bathed  his  face,  and  very  soon  was  as  respect- 
able a  member  of  society  as  usual,  save  for  a  slight  swell- 
ing on  one  side  of  his  nose. 

Drysdale,  meantime,  seated  on  the  table,  had  been  ex- 
plaining the  circumstances  to  the  landlady  and  the  foreman, 
whose  reflections  on  the  occasion  I  shall  not  trouble  my 
readers  with,  though  they  were  full  of  wisdom.  "And 
16* 


186  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

now,  ma'am,"  said  he,  as  Tom  joined  them  and  seated 
himself  on  a  vacant  chair,  "  I'm  sure  you  must  draw  fa- 
mous ale." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  think  Dick  —  that's  my  ostler,  sir  — r  is 
as  good  a  brewer  as  is  in  the  town.  We  always  brews  at 
home,  sir,  and  I  hope  always  shall." 

"  Quite  right,  ma'am,  quite  right,"  said  Drysdale  ;  "  and 
I  don't  think  we  can  do  better  than  follow  Jem,  here.  Let 
us  have  a  jug  of  the  same  ale  as  he  is  drinking.  And  you'll 
take  a  glass  with  us,  Jem  ?  or  will  you  have  spirits  ?  " 

Jem  was  for  another  glass  of  ale,  and  bore  witness  to 
its  being  the  best  in  Oxford,  and  Patty  drew  the  ale,  and 
supplied  two  more  long  glasses.  Drysdale,  with  apologies, 
produced  Ins  cigar-case ;  and  Jem,  under  the  influence  of 
the  ale  and  a  firstrate  Havana  (for  which  he  deserted  his 
pipe,  though  he  did  not  enjoy  it  half  as  much),  volunteered 
to  go  and  rouse  the  yard  and  conduct  them  safely  back  to 
college.  This  offer  was,  of  course,  politely  declined,  and 
then,  Jem's  hour  for  bed  having  come,  he,  being  a  me- 
thodical man,  as  became- his  position,  departed,  and  left 
our  two  young  friends  in  sole  possession  of  the  bar.  Noth- 
ing could  have  suited  the  two  young  gentlemen  better,  and 
they  set  to  work  to  make  themselves  agreeable.  They 
listened  with  lively  interest  to  the  landlady's  statement  of 
the  difficulties  of  a  widow  woman  in  a  house  like  hers, 
and  to  her  praises  of  her  factotum  Dick  and  her  niece 
Patty.  They  applauded  her  resolution  of  not  bringing 
up  her  two  boys'  in  the  publican  line,  though  they  could 
offer  no  very  available  advice  in  answer  to  her  appeals 
for  advice  as  to  what  trade  they  should  be  put  to ;  all 
trades  were  so  full,  and  things  were  not  as  they  used  to 
*>e.  The  one  thing,  apparently,  which  was  wanting  to  the 
happiness  of  Drysdale  at  Oxford,  -was  the  discovery  of  such 
beer  as  he  had  at  last  found  at  "  The  Choughs."     Dick 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  187 

was  to  come  up  to  St.  Ambrose's  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning  and  carry  off  his  barrel,  which  would  never  con- 
tain in  future  any  other  liquid.  At  last  that  worthy  ap- 
peared in  the  bar  to  know  when  he  was  to  shut  up,  and 
■was  sent  out  by  his  mistress  to  see  that  the  street  was  clear, 
for  wlfrich  service  he  received  a  shilling,  though  his  offer 
of  escort  was  declined.  And  so,  after  paying  in  a  splen- 
did manner  for  their  entertainment,  they  found  themselves 
in  the  street,  and  set  off  for  college,  agreeing  on  the  way 
that  "  The  Choughs  "  was  a  great  find,  the  old  lady  the 
best  old  soul  in  the  world,  and  Patty  the  prettiest  girl 
in  Oxford.  They  found  the  streets  quiet,  and  walking 
quickly  along  them,  knocked  at  the  college  gates  at  half- 
past  eleven.  The  stout  porter  received  them  with  a  long 
face. 

"  Senior  proctor's  sent  down  here  an  hour  back,  gentle-. 
men,  to  find  whether  you  was  in  college." 

"You  don't  mean  that,  porter?  How  kind  of  him  ! 
What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Said  I  didn't  know,  sir ;  but  the  marshal  said,  if  you 
come  in  after  that  you  was  to  go  to  the  senior  proctor's  at 
half-past  nine  to-morrow." 

"  Send  my  compliments  to  the  senior  proctor,"  said  Drys- 
dale,  "  and  say  I've  a  very  particular  engagement  to-mor- 
row morning,  which  will  prevent  my  having  the  pleasure 
of  calling  on  him." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  porter,  giving  a  little  dry 
chuckle,  and  tapping  the  keys  against  his  leg ;  "  only  per- 
haps you  wouldn't  mind  writing  him  a  note,  sir,  as  he'i 
rather  a  particular  gentleman." 

"  Didn't  he  send  after  any  one  else  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Jervis,  sir." 

u  Well,  and  what  about  him  ?  " 


183  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  O  sir,  Mr.  Jervis !  an  old  hand,  sir.  He'd  been  in 
gates  a  long  time,  sir,  when  the  marshal  came." 

"  The  sly  old  beggar !  "  said  Drysdale.  "  Good-night 
porter.  Mind  you  send  my  message  to  the  proctor.  If 
he  is  set  on  seeing  me  to-morrow,  you  can  say  that  hell 
find  a  broiled  chicken  and  a  hand  at  picquet  in  my  uooms, 
if  he  likes  to  drop  in  to  lunch." 

The  porter  looked  after  them  for  a  moment,  and  then 
retired  to  his  deep  old  chair  in  the  lodge,  pulled  his  night- 
cap over  his  ears,  put  up  his  feet  before  the  fire  on  a  high 
stool,  and  folded  his  hand  on  his  lap.  "  The  most  impi- 
dentest  thing  on  the  face  of  the  earth  is  a  genTman-com- 
moner  in  his  first  year,"  soliloquized  the  little  man. 
"  'Twould  ha'  done  that  one  a  sight  of  good,  now,  if  he'd 
got  a  good  hiding  in  the  street,  to-night.  But  he's  better 
than  most  on  'em,  too,"  he  went  on ;  "  uncommon  free 
with  his  tongue,  but  just  as  free  with  his  half-sovereigns. 
"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  peach,  if  the  proctor  don't  send 
again  in  the  morning.  That  sort's  good  for  the  college ; 
makes  things  brisk ;  has  his  wind  from  town,  and  don't 
keep  no  keys.  I  wonder,  now,  if  my  Peter's  been  out. 
fighting.  He's  pretty  nigh  as  hard  to  manage,  is  that  boy, 
as  if  he  was  at  college  hisself." 

And  so,  muttering  over  his  domestic  and  professionaJ 
grievances,  the  small  janitor  composed  himself  to  a  nap. 
I  may  add,  parenthetically,  that  his  hopeful  Peter,  a  pre- 
cocious youth  of  seventeen,  "scout's  boy  on  No.  3  Staircase 
of  St.  Ambrose's  College,  was  represented  in  the  boot- 
cleaning  and  errand  line  by  a  substitute  for  some  days ; 
and  when  he  returned  to  duty  was  minus  a  front  tooth. 

"  What  fools  we  were  not  to  stick  to  the  captain.  ] 
wonder  what  we  shall  get,"  said  Tom,  who  was  troubled 
in  his  mind  at  the  proctor's  message,  and  not  gifted  natu- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  189 

rally  with  the  recklessness  and  contempt  of  authority  which 
in  Drysdale's  case  approached  the  sublime. 

"  Who  cares  ?  I'll  be  bound  now  the  old  fox  camo 
straight  home  to  earth.     Let's  go  and  knock  him  up." 

Tom  assented,  for  he  was  anxious  to  consult  Jervis  as 
to  his  proceedings  in  the  morning ;  so  they  soon  found 
themselves  drumming  at  his  oak,  which  was  opened  shortly 
by  the  stroke  in  an  old  boating-jacket.  They  followed 
him  in.  At  one  end  of  his  table  stood  his  tea-service  and 
the  remains  of  his  commons,  which  the  scout  had  not 
cleared  away ;  at  the  other,  open  books,  note-books,  and 
maps  showed  that  the  captain  read,  as  he  rowed,  "  hard 
all." 

"  Well,  are  you  two  only  just  in  ?  " 

"  Only  just,  my  captain,"  answered  Drysdale. 

"  Have  you  been  well  thrashed,  then  ?  You  don't  look 
much  damaged." 

"  We  are  innocent  of  fight  since  your  sudden  departure 
—-flight,  shall  I  call  it  ?  —  my  captain." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  then  ?  " 

"  Where !  why  in  the  paragon  of  all  pothouses ;  snug 
little  bar  with  red  curtains  ;  stout  old  benevolent  female 
in  spectacles ;  barmaid  a  houri ;  and  for  malt,  the  most 
touching  tap  in  Oxford  —  home-brewed,  too,  wasn't  it,- 
Brown  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  beer  was  undeniable,"  said  Tom. 

'•  Well,  and  you  dawdled  there  till  now  ?  "  said  Jervis. 

"  Even  so.  What  with  mobs  that  wouldn't  fight  fair, 
and  captains  who  would  run  away,  and  proctors  and  mar- 
shals who  would  interfere,  we  were  '  perfectly  disgusted 
with  the  whole  proceeding,'  as  the  Scotchman  said  when 
he  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged." 

1  Well,  Heaven,  they  say,  protects  children,  sailors,-and 


190  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

drunken  men ;  and  whatever  answers  to  Heaven  in  the 
academical  system  protects  freshmen,"  remarked  Jervis. 

"  Not  us,  at  any  rate,"  said  Tom,  "  for  we  are  to  go  to 
the  proctor  to-morrow  morning." 

"  What,  did  he  catch  you  in  your  famous  public  ?  " 

"  No ;  the  marshal  came  round  to  the  porter's  lodge, 
asked  if  we  were  in,  and  left  word  that,  if  we  were  not,  we 
were  to  go  to  him  in  the  morning.  The  porter  told  us  just 
now  as  we  came  in." 

"Pshaw,"  said  the  captain,  with  disgust;  "now  you'll 
both  be  gated  probably,  and  the  whole  crew  will  be 
thrown  out  of  gear.  Why  couldn't  you  have  come  home 
when  I  did?" 

"  We  do  not  propose  to  attend  the  levee  of  that  excel- 
lent person  in  office  to-morrow  morning,"  said  Drysdale. 
"  He  will  forget  all  about  it.  Old  Copas  wont  say  a  word 
—  catch  him.     He  gets  too  much  out  of  me  for  that." 

"  Well,  you'll  see  ;  I'll  back  the  proctor's  memory." 

"  But,  captain,  what  are  you  going  to  stand  ?  " 

"  Stand !  nothing,  unless  you  like  a  cup  of  cold  tea. 
You'll  get  no  wine  or  spirits  here  at  this  time  of  night,  and 
the  buttery  is  shut.  Besides,  you've  had  quite  as  much 
beer  as  is  good  for  you  at  your  paragon  public." 

"  Come,  now,  captain,  just  two  glasses  of  sherry,  and 
I'll  promise  to  go  to  bed." 

"  Not  a  thimbleful." 

"  You  old  tyrant !  "  said  Drysdale,  hopping  off  his  perch 
on  the  elbow  of  the  sofa.  "  Come  along,  Brown,  let's  go 
and  draw  for  some  supper  and  a  hand  at  Van  John. 
There's  sure  to  be  some  going  up  my  staircase ;  or  at  any 
rate,  there's  a  cool  bottle  of  claret  in  my  rooms." 

"  Stop  and  have  a  talk,  Brown,"  said  the  captain,  and 
prevailed  against  Drysdale,  who,  after  another  attempt  to 
draw  Tom  off,  departed  on  his  quest  for  drink  and  cards. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  191 

"  He'll  never  do  for  the  boat,  I'm  afraid,"  said  the  cap- 
tain ;  "  with  his  rascally  late  hours,  and  drinking,  and  eat- 
ing all  sorts  of  trash  one  atop  of  the  other.  It's  a  pity, 
too,  for  he's  a  pretty  oar  for  his  weight." 

"  He  is  such  uncommon  good  company,  too,"  said  Tom. 

"Yes;  but  I'll  tell  you  what.  He's  just  a  leetle  too 
good  company  for  you  and  me,  or  any  fellows  who  mean  to 
take  a  degree.  Let's  see,  this  is  only  his  third  term  ?  I'll 
give  him,  perhaps,  two  more  to  make  the  place  too  hot  to 
hold  him.  Take  my  word  for  it,  he'll  never  get  to  his 
little  go." 

"  It  will  be  a  great  pity,  then,"  said  Tom. 

"  So  it  will.  But  after  all,  you  see,  what  does  it  matter 
to  him  ?  He  gets  rusticated ;  takes  his  name  off  with  a 
flourish  of  trumpets  —  what  then?  He  falls'  back  on 
£5,000  a  year  in  land,  and  a  good  accumulation  in  con- 
sols ;  runs  abroad,  or  lives  in  town  for  a  year.  Takes  the 
hounds  when  he  comes  of  age,  or  is  singled  out  by  some 
discerning  constituency,  and  sent  to  make  laws  for  his 
country,  having  spent  the  whole  of  his  life  hitherto  in 
breaking  all  the  laws  he  ever  came  under.  You  and  I, 
perhaps,  go  fooling  about  with  him,  and  get  rusticated. 
We  make  our  friends  miserable.  We  can't  take  our 
names  off,  but  have  to  come  cringing  back  at  the  end  of 
our  year,  marked  men.  Keep  our  tails  between  our  legs 
for  the  rest  of  our  time.  Lose  a  year  at  our  professions, 
and  most  likely  have  the  slip  casting  up  against  us  in  one 
way  or  another  for  the  next  twenty  years.  It's  like  the 
old  story  of  the  giant  and  the  dwarf,  or  like  fighting  a 
sweep,  or  any  other  one-sided  business." 

"  But  I'd  sooner  have  to  fight  my  own  way  in  the  world 
after  all ;  wouldn't  you  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  II — m — m  ! "  said  the  captain,  throwing  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  and  smiling ;  "  can't  answer  offhand.     I'm  a 


192  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

third-year  man,  and  begin  to  see  the  other  side  rather 
clearer  than  I  did  when  I  was  a  freshman  like  you.  Three 
years  at  Oxford,  my  boy,  will  teach  you  something  of  what 
rank  and  money  count  for,  if  they  teach  you  nothing  else." 

"  Why,  here's  the  captain  singing  the  same  song  as 
Hardy,"  thought  Tom. 

"  So  you  two  have  to  go  to  the  proctor  to-morrow  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Shall  you  go  ?     Drysdale  wont." 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  It  seems  to  me  childish  not  to  go , 
as  if  I  were  back  in  the  lower  school  again.  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  the  being  sent  for  isn't  pleasant ;  but  the  other 
I  couldn't  stand." 

"  Well,  I  don't  feel  any  thing  of  that  sort.  But  I  think 
you're  right  on  the  whole.  The  chances  are  that  he'll  re- 
member your  name,  and  send  for  you  again,  if  you  don't 
go ;  and  then  you'll  be  worse  off." 

"  You  don't  think  he'll  rusticate  us,  or  any  thing  of  that 
sort  ?  "  said  Tom,  who  had  felt  horrible  twinges  at  the  cap- 
tain's picture  of  the  effects  of  rustication  on  ordinary  mor- 
tals. 

"  No ;  not  unless  he's  in  a  very  bad  humor.  I  was 
caught  three  times  in  one  night  in  my  freshman's  term,  and 
only  got  an  imposition." 

"  Then  I  don't  care,"  said  Tom.  "  But  it's  a  bore  to 
have  been  caught  in  so  seedy  an  affair ;  if  it  had  been  a 
real  good  row,  one  wouldn't  have  minded  so  much." 

"  Why,  what  did  you  expect  ?  It  was  neither  better 
nor  worse  than  the  common  run  of  such  things." 

"  Well,  but  three  parts  of  the  crowd  were  boys." 

"  Sd  they  are  always —  or  nine  times  out  of  ten,  at  any 
rate." 

"  But  there  was  no  real  fighting :  at  least,  I  only  know 
I  got  none." 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  193 

*  There  isn't  any  real  fighting  as  you  call  it,  nine  times 
out  of  ten." 

"What  is  there  then?" 

"  Why  something  of  this  sort.  Five  shopboys  or  scouts' 
boys,  full  of  sauciness,  loitering  at  an  out-of-the-way  street 
corner.  Enter  two  freshmen,  full  of  dignity  and  bad 
wine.  Explosion  of  inflammable  material.  Freshmen 
mobbed  into  High  Street  or  Broad  Street,  where  the  tables 
are  turned  by  the  gathering  of  many  more  freshmen,  and 
the  mob  of  town  boys  quietly  subsides,  puts  its  hands  m  its 
pockets,  and  ceases  to  shout  '  Town,  town  ! '  The  trium- 
phant freshmen  march  up  and  down  for  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  shouting  '  Gown,  gown,'  and  looking  furious,  but  not 
half  sorry  that  the  mob  vanishes  like  mist  at  their  ap- 
proach. Then  come  the  proctors,  who  hunt  down,  and 
break  up  the  gown  in  some  half-hour  or  hour.  The  '  town ' 
again  marches  about  in  the  ascendant,  and  mobs  the  scat- 
tered freshmen,  wherever  they  can  be  caught,  in  very 
small  numbers." 

"  But  with  all  your  chaff  about  freshmen,  captain,  you 
were  in  it  yourself  to-night ;  come,  now." 

"  Of  course,  I  had  to  look  after  you  two  boys." 

"  But  you  didn't  know  we  were  in  it  when  you  came 
up." 

"  I  was  sure  to  find  some  of  you.  Besides,  I'll  admit 
one  don't  like  to  go  in  while  there's  any  chance  of  a  real 
row,  as  you  call  it,  and  so  gets  proctorized  in  one's  old 
age  for  one's  patriotism." 

"  Were  you  ever  in  a  real  row  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  once,  about  a  year  ago.  The  fighting  numbers 
were  about  equal,  and  the  town  all  grown  men,  laborers 
and  mechanics.  It  was  desperate  hard  work,  none  of  your 
shouting  and  promenading.  That  Hardy,  one  of  our  Bible 
clerks,  fought  like  a  Paladin ;  I  know  I  shifted  a  fellow  in 
17 


194  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

corduroys  on  to  him,  whom  I  had  found  an  uncommon 
tough  customer,  and  never  felt  better  pleased  in  my  life 
than  when  I  saw  the  light  glance  on  his  hobnails  as  he 
went  over  into  the  gutter  two  minutes  afterwards.  It 
lasted,  perhaps,  ten  minutes,  and  both  sides  were  ve*ry  glad 
to  draw  off." 

"  But  of  course  you  licked  them  ?  " 

"  We  said  we  did." 

""Well,  I  believe  that  a  gentleman  will  always  lick  in  a 
fair  fight." 

"  Of  course  you  do ;  it's  the  orthodox  belief." 

"But  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  if  he  is  as  big  and  strong,  and  knows  how  to  fight 
as  well  as  the  other.  The  odds  are  that  he  cares  a  little 
more  for  giving  in,  and  that- will  pull  him  through." 

"  That  isn't  saying  much,  though." 

"  No,  but  it's  quite  as  much  as  is  true.  I'll  tell  you 
what  it  is,  I  think  just  this,  that  we  are  generally  better 
in  the  fighting  way  than  shopkeepers,  clerks,  flunkies,  and 
all  fellows  who  don't  work  hard  with  their  bodies  all  day. 
But  the  moment  you  come  to  the  real  hard-fisted  fellow, 
used  to  nine  or  ten  hours'  work  a  day,  he's  a  cruel  hard 
customer.  Take  seventy  or  eighty  of  them  at  haphazard, 
the  first  you  meet,  and  turn  them  into  St.  Ambrose  any 
morning  —  by  night  I  take  it  they  would  be  lords  of  this 
venerable  establishment,  if  we  had  to  fight  for  the  posses- 
sion :  except,  perhaps,  for  that  Hardy ;  he's  one  of  a  thou- 
sand, and  was  born  for  a  fighting  man ;  perhaps  he  might 
pull  us  through." 

"  Why  don't  you  try  him  in  the  boat  ?  " 

"  Miller  manages  all  that.  I  spoke  to  him  about  it  aftei 
that  row,  but  he  said  that  Hardy  had  refused  to  subscribe 
to  the  club,  said  he  couldn't  afford  it,  or  something  of  the 


TOM   BftOWN   AT    OXFORD.  195 

loit.     I  don't  see  why  that  need  matter,  myself,  but  I  sup- 
pose, as  we  have  rules,  we  ought  to  stick  to  them." 

"  It's  a  great  pity,  though.     I  know   Hardy  well,  and  * 
you  can't  think  what  a  fine  fellow  he  is." 

"  I'm  sure  of  that.  I  tried  to  know  him,  and  we  don't 
get  on  badly  as  speaking  acquaintance.  But  he  seems  a 
queer,  solitary  bird." 

Twelve  o'clock  struck ;  so  Tom  wished  the  captain  good- 
night and  departed,  meditating  much  on  what  he  had  heard 
and  seen,  but  not  yet  quite  persuaded  to  give  up  his  ro- 
mantic beliefs  as  to  town  and  gown  rows. 

The  reader,  too,  will  be  outraged,  no  doubt,  and  will 
demur  to  the  prosaic,  not  to  say  vulgar,  sketch  here  sub- 
mitted to  him.  He  will  resent  the  absence  of  terrific  sin- 
gle combats,  in  which  the  descendant  of  a  hundred  earls 
polishes  off  the  huge  representative  of  the  masses  in  the 
most  finished  style,  without  a  scratch  on  his  own  aristo- 
cratic features. 

Well,  well !  a  man  can  only  describe  what  he  has  seen 
with  his  own  eyes  and  known  in  his  own  heart  — *at  least, 
if  he  is  a  true  man. 

At  any  rate,  Tom  went  to  bed  that  night  fairly  sickened 
with  his  experience  of  a  town  and  gown  row,  and  with  a 
nasty  taste  in  his  mouth.  But  he  felt  much  pleased  at 
having  drawn  out  the  captain  so  completely  ;  for  the  stroke 
was  in  general  a  man  of  marvellous  few  words,  having 
many  better  uses  than  talking  to  put  his  breath  to. 

Next  morning  Tom  attended  at  the  proctor's  rooms  at 
the  appointed  time,  not  without  some  feeling  of  shame  at 
having  to  do  so  ;  which,  however,  wore  off  when  he  found 
some  dozen  men  of  other  colleges  waiting  about  on  the 
same  errand  as  himself.  In  his  turn,  he  was  ushered  in, 
and,  as  he  stood  by  the  door,  had  time  to  look  the  great 
man  over  as  he  sat  making  a  note  of  the  case  he  had  just 


196  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFOK0. 

disposed  of.  The  inspection  was  re-assuring.  The  proc- 
tor was  a  gentlemanly,  straightforward-looking  man  of 
about  thirty,  not  at  all  donnish,  and  his  address  answered 
to  his  appearance. 

"  Mr.  Brown,  of  St.  Ambrose's,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  sent  you  to  your  college  yesterday  evening ;  did  you 
go  straight  home  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  How  was  that,  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

Tom  made  no  answer,  and  the  proctor  looked  at  him 
steadily  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  repeated,  — 

"How  was  that?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Tom,  "  I  don't  mean  to  say  I  was 
going  straight  to  college,  but  I  should  have  been  in  long 
before  you  sent,  only  I  fell  in  with  the  mob  again,  and 
then  there  was  a  cry  that  you  were  coming.  And  so  —  " 
He  paused. 

"  Well,"  said  the  proctor,  with  a  grim  sort  of  curl  about 
the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  Why,  I  ran  away,  and  turned  into  the  first  place  which 
was  open,  and  stopped  till  the  streets  were  quiet." 

"  A  public  house,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  <  Choughs.' " 

The  proctor  considered  a  minute,  and  again  scrutinized 
Tom's  look  and  manner,  which  certainly  were  straightfor- 
ward and  without  any  tinge  of  cringing  or  insolence. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  up  ?  " 

"  This  is  my  second  term,  sir." 

"  You  have  never  been  sent  to  me  before,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Never,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  can't  overlook  this,  as  you  yourself  confess  to 
a  direct  act  of  disobedience.  You  must  write  me  out  two 
hundred  lines  of  Virgil.     And  now,  Mr.  Brown,  let  me 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD  197 

advise  you  to  keep  out  of  these  disreputable  street  quar- 
rels in  future.     Good-morning." 

Tom  hurried  away,  wondering  what  it  would  feel  like 
to  be  writing  out  Virgil  again  as  a  punishment  at  his  time 
of  life,  but  glad  above  measure  that  the  proctor  had  asked 
him  no  questions  about  his  companion.  That  hero  was, 
of  course,  mightily  tickled  at  the  result,  and  seized  the 
occasion  to  lecture  Tom  on  his  future  conduct,  holding 
himself  up  as  a  living  example  of  the  benefits  which  were 
sure  to  accrue  to  a  man  who  never  did  any  thing  he  was 
told  to  do.  The  soundness  of  his  reasoning,  however,  was 
somewhat  shaken  by  the  dean,  who,  on  that  same  after- 
noon, managed  to  catch  him  in  quad ;  and,  carrying  him 
off,  discoursed  with  him  concerning  his  various  and  sys- 
tematic breaches  of  discipline,  pointed  out  to  him  that  he 
had  already  made  such  good  use  of  his  time  that  if  he 
were  to  be  discommonsed  for  three  days  more  he  would 
lose  his  term  ;  and  then  took  off  his  cross,  gave  him  a  book 
of  Virgil  to  write  out,  and  gated  him  for  a  fortnight  after 
hall.  Drysdale  sent  out  his  scout  to  order  his  punishment 
as  he  might  have  ordered  a  waistcoat,  presented  old  Copas 
with  a  half-sovereign,  and  then  dismissed  punishment  and 
gating  from  his  mind  at  once.  He  cultivated  with  great 
success  the  science  of  mental  gymnastics,  or  throwing 
every  thing  the  least  unpleasant  off  his  mind  at  once. 
And  I  cannot  but  allow  that  it  is  a  science  worthy  of  all 
cultivation,  if  one  desires  to  lead  a  comfortable  life.  It 
gets  harder,  however,  as  the  years  roll  over  us,  to  attain 
to  any  satisfactory  proficiency  in  it ;  so  that  it  should  be 
mastered  as  early  in  life  as  may  be. 

The  town  and  gown  row  was  the  talk  of  the  college  for 

the  next  week.     Tom,  of  course,  talked  much  about  it, 

like  his  neighbors,  and  confided  to  one  and  another  the 

captain's  heresies.     They  were  all  incredulous ;  for  no  one 

17* 


V 


198  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

had  ever  heard  him  talk  as  much  in  a  term  as  Tom  im- 
ported him  to  have  done  on  this  one  evening. 

So  it  was  resolved  that  he  should  be  taken  to  task  on 
the  subject  on  the  first  opportunity,  and  as  nobody  was 
afraid  of  him,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  man  to 
bell  the  cat.  Accordingly,  at  the  next  wine  of  the  boating 
set,  the  captain  had  scarcely  entered  when  he  was  assailed 
by  the  host  with  — 

"  Jervis,  Brown  says  you  don't  believe  a  gentlemen  can 
lick  a  cad,  unless  he  is  the  biggest  and  strongest  of  the 
two." 

The  captain  who  hated  coming  out  with  his  beliefs, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  sipped  his  wine,  and  tried  to  turn 
the  subject.  But,  seeing  that  they  were  all  bent  on  draw- 
ing him  out,  he  was  not  the  man  to  run  from  his  guns ; 
and  so  said,  quietly, — 

"  No  more  I  do."      * 

Notwithstanding  the  reverence  in  which  he  was  held, 
this  saying  could  not  be  allowed  to  pass,  and  a  dozen 
voices  were  instantly  raised,  and  a  dozen  authentic  stories 
told  to  confute  him.  He  listened  patiently  and  then,  see- 
ing that  he  was  in  for  it,  said, — 

"Never  mind  fighting.  Trjr  something  else;  cricket, 
for  instance.  The  players  generally  beat  the  gentlemen ; 
don't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  they  are  professionals." 

"  Well,  and  we  don't  often  get  a  university  crew  which 
can  beat  the  watermen." 

"  Professionals  again." 

"  I  believe  the  markers  are  the  best  tennis-players,  aint 
they?"  persevered  the  captain;  "and  I  generally  find 
keepers  and  huntsmen  shooting  and  riding  better  than 
their  masters  ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  But  that's  not  fair.     All  the  cases  you  put  are  those 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  199 

of  men  who  have  nothing  else  to  do,  who  live  by  the 
things  which  gentlemen  only  take  up  for  pleasure." 

"  I  only  say  that  the  cads,  as  you  call  them,  manage 
somehow  or  another,  to  do  them  best,"  said  the  captain. 

• "  How  about  the  army  and  navy  ?     The  officers  alway3 
lead." 

"  Well,  there  they're  all  professionals,  at  any  rate,"  said 
the  captain.  u  I  admit  the  officers  lead ;  but  the  men  fol- 
low pretty  close.  And  in  a  forlorn  hope  there  are  fifty 
men  to  one  officer,  after  all." 

"  But  they  must  be  led.  The  men  will  never  go  with- 
out an  officer  to  lead." 

"  It's  the  officers'  business  to  lead,  I  know ;  and  they  do 
it.  But  you  wont  find  the  best  judges  talking  as  if  the 
men  wanted  much  leading.  Read  Napier :  the  finest  story 
in  his  book  is  of  the  sergeant  who  gave  his  life  for  his  boy 
officer's  —  your  namesake,  Brown  at  the  Coa." 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  to  hear  you  crying  down  gen- 
tlemen." 

"  I'm  not  crying  down  gentlemen,"  said  the  captain.  "  I 
only  say  that  a  gentleman's  flesh  and  blood  and  brains 
are  just  the  same,  and  no  better,  than  another  man's.  He 
has  all  the  chances  on  his  side  in  the  way  of  training,  and 
pretty  near  all  the  prizes ;  so  it  would  be  hard  if  he  didn't 
do  most  things  better  than  poor  men.  But  give  them  the 
chance  of  training,  and  they  will  tread  on  his  heels  soon 
enough.     That's  all  I  say." 

That  was  all,  certainly,  that  the  captain  said,  and  then 
relapsed  into  his  usual  good-tempered,  monosyllabic  state  ; 
from  which  all  the  eager  talk  of  the  dozen  men,  who  took 
up  the  cudgels  naturally  enough  for  their  own  class, 
and  talked  themselves,  before  the  wine  broke  up,  into  a 
renewed  consciousness  of  their  natural  superiority,  failed 
*gain  to  rouse  him. 


200  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

This  was,  in  fact,  the  captain's  weak  point,  if  he  had 
one.  He  had  strong  beliefs  himself;  one  of  the  strongest 
of  which  was,  that  nobody  could  be  taught  any  thing  ex- 
cept by  his  own  experience  ;  so  he  never,  or  very  rarely, 
exercised  his  own  personal  influence,  but  just  quietly  went 
his  own  way,  and  let  men  go  theirs.  Another  of  his  beliefs 
was,  that  there  was  no  man  or  thing  in  the  world  too  bad 
to  be  tolerated ;  faithfully  acting  up  to  which  belief,  the 
captain  himself  tolerated  persons  and  things  intolerable. 

Bearing  which  facts  in  mind,  the  reader  will  easily 
guess  the  result  of  the  application  which  the  crew  duly 
made  to  him  the  day  after  Miller's  back  was  turned.  He 
simply  said  that  the  training  they  proposed  would  not  be 
enough,  and  that  he  himself  should  take  all  who  chose  to 
go  down  to  Abingdon  twice  a  week.  From  that  time 
there  were  many  defaulters ;  and  the  spirit  of  Diogenes 
groaned  within  him,  as  day  after  day  the  crew  had  to  be 
filled  up  from  the  torpid  or  by  watermen.  Drysdale 
would  ride  down  to  Sanford,  meeting  the  boat  on  its  way 
up,  and  then  take  his  place  for  the  pull  up  to  Oxford, 
while  his  groom  rode  his  horse  up  to  Folly  bridge  to  meet 
him ;  there  he  would  mount  again,  and  ride  off  to  BuJling- 
don,  or  to  the  Isis,  or  Quentin,  or  other  social  meeting 
equally  inimical  to  good  training.  Blake  often  absented 
himself  three  days  in  a  week,  and  other  men  once  or 
twice. 

From  considering  which  facts,  Tom  came  to  understand 
the  difference  between  his  two  heroes ;  their  strong  like- 
ness in  many  points  he  had  seen  from  the  first.  They 
were  alike  in  truthfulness,  bravery,  bodily  strength,  and  m 
most  of  their  opinions.  But  Jervis  worried  himself  about 
nothing,  and  let  all  men  and  things  alone,  in  the  belief 
that  the  world  was  not  going  so  very  wrong,  or  would 
right  itself  somehow  without  him.     Hardy,  on  the  other 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  201 

hand,  was  consuming  his  heart  over  every  thing  that 
seemed  to  him  to  be  going  wrong  in  himself  and  round 
about  him  —  in  the  college,  in  Oxford,  in  England,  in  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  and  never  letting  slip  a  chance  of  trying 
to  set  right,  here  a  thread,  and  there  a  thread  ;  a  self-ques- 
tioning, much-enduring  man  ;  a  slayer  of  dragons  himself, 
and  one  with  whom  you  could  not  live  much  without  get- 
ting uncomfortably  aware  of  the  dragons  which  you  also 
had  to  slay. 

What  wonder  that,  apart  altogether  from  the  difference 
in  their  social  position,  the  one  man  was  ever  becoming 
more  and  more  popular,  while  the  other  was  left  more  and 
more  to  himself.  There  are  few  of  us,  I  believe,  at  Ox- 
ford, or  elsewhere,  who  do  not  like  to  see  a  man  living  a 
brave  and  righteous  life,  so  long  as  he  keeps  clear  of  them, 
and  still  fewer  who  do  like  to  be  in  constant  contact  with 
one  who,  not  content  with  so  living  himself,  is  always  com- 
ing across  them,  and  laying  bare  to  them  their  own  faint- 
heartedness and  sloth  and  meanness.  The  latter,  I  ad- 
mit, inspires  the  deeper  feeling,  and  lays  hold  with  a 
firmer  grip  of  the  men  he  does  lay  hold  .  of,  but  they  are 
few.  For  men  can't  keep  always  up  to  high  pressure 
till  they  have  found  firm  ground  to  build  upon,  altogether 
outside  of  themselves ;  and  it  is  hard  to  be  thankful  and 
fair  to  those  who  are  showing  us  time  after  time  that  our 
foothold  is  nothing  but  shifting  sand. 

The  contrast  between  Jervis  and  Hardy  now  began  to 
force  itself  daily  more  and  more  on  our  hero's  attention. 
From  the  night  of  the  town  and  gown  row,  "  The  Choughs  " 
became  a  regular  haunt  of  the  St.  Ambrose  crew,  who 
were  taken  there  under  the  guidance  of  Tom  and  Drys- 
dale  the  next  day.  Not  content  with  calling  there  on  his 
way  from  the  boats,  there  was  seldom  a  evening  now  that 
Tom  did  not  manage  to  drop  in  and  spend  an  hour  there. 


202  .     TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"When  one  is  very  much  bent  on  doing  a  thing,  it  is  gen 
erally  easy  enough  to  find  very  good  reasons,  or  excuses 
at  any  rate,  for  it;  and  whenever  any  doubts  crossed 
Tom's  mind,  he  silenced  them  by  the  reflection  that  the 
time  he  spent  at  "  The  Choughs  "  would  otherwise  have 
been  devoted  to  wine  parties  or  billiards ;  and  it  was  not 
difficult  to  persuade  himself  that  his  present  occupation 
was  the  more  wholesome  of  the  two.  He  could  not,  how- 
ever, feel  satisfied  till  he  had  mentioned  his  change  in  life 
to  Hardy.  This  he  found  a  much  more  embarrassing  mat- 
ter than  he  had  fancied  it  would  be.  But  after  one  or 
two  false  starts,  he  managed  to  get  out,  that  he  had  found 
the  best  glass  of  ale  in  Oxford,  at  a  quiet  little  public  on 
the  way  to  the  boats,  kept  by  the  most  perfect  of  old  wid- 
ows, with  a  factotum  of  an  ostler,  who  was  a  regular  char- 
acter, and  that  he  went  there  most  evenings  for  a  hour  or 
so.     Wouldn't  Hardy  come  some  night? 

No,  Hardy  couldn't  spare  the  time. 

Tom  felt  rather  relieved  at  this  answer,  but,  neverthe- 
less, went  on  to  urge  the  excellence  of  the  ale  as  a  furthei 
inducement. 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  half  so  good  as  our  college  beer, 
and  I'll  be  bound  it's  half  as  dear  again." 

"  Only  a  penny  a  pint  dearer,"  said  Tom  ;  "  that  wont 
ruin  you.     All  the  crew  go  there." 

"  If  I  were  the  captain,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  wouldn't  let 
you  run  about  drinking  ale  at  night  after  wine  parties. 
Does  he  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  goes  there  himself  often  on  his  way  from  the 
boats,"  said  Tom. 

ft  And  at  night,  too  ?  "  said  Hardy. 

"  No,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  I  don't  go  there  after  drinking 
wine ;  I  haven't  been  to  a  wine  this  ten  days,  at  least,  not 
for  more  than  five  minutes." 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.     .  203 

"  Well,  sound  ale  is  better  than  Oxford  wine,"  said 
Hardy,  "if  you  must  drink  something."  And  so  the 
subject  dropped. 

And  Tom  went  away,  satisfied  that  Hardy  had  not  dis- 
approved of  his  new  habit.  It  certainly  occurred  to  him 
that  he  had  omitted  all  mention  of  the  pretty  barmaid  hi 
his  enumeration  of  the  attractions  of  "  The  Choughs,"  but 
this  he  set  down  to. mere  accident;  it  was  a  slip  which  he 
would  set  right  in  their  next  talk.  But  that  talk  never 
camz,  and  the  subject  was  not  again  mentioned  between 
them.  In  fact,  to  tell  the  truth,  Tom's  visits  to  his  friend's 
room  in  the  evenings  became  shorter  and  less  frequent  as 
u  The  Choughs  "  absorbed  more  and  more  of  his  time.  He 
made  excuses  to  himself  that  Hardy  must  be  glad  of  more 
time,  and  would  be  only  bored  if  he  kept  dropping  in 
every  night,  now  that  the  examination  for  degree  was  so 
near ;  that  he  was  sure  he  drove  Grey  away,  who  would 
be  of  much  more  use  to  Hardy  just  now.  These,  and 
many  other  plausible  reasons  suggested  themselves  when- 
ever his  conscience  smote  him  for  his  neglect,  as  it  did  not 
seldom  ;  and  he  always  managed  to  satisfy  himself  some- 
how, without  admitting  the  real  fact,  that  these  visits  were 
no  longer  what  they  had  been  to  him,  that  a  gulf  had 
sprung  up  and  was  widening  day  by  day  between  him  and 
the  only  friend  who  would  have  had  the  courage  and  hon- 
esty to  tell  him  the  truth  about  his  new  pursuit.  Mean- 
time, Hardy  was  much  pained  at  the  change  in  his  friend, 
which  he  saw  quickly  enough,  and  often  thought  over  it 
with  a  sigh  as  he  sat  at  his  solitary  tea,  and  set  it  down  to 
his  own  dulness,  to  the  number  of  new  friends  whom  such 
a  sociable  fellow  as  Tom  was  sure  to  make,  and  who,  of 
course,  would  take  up  more  and  more  of  his  time  ;  and, 
if  he  felt  a  little  jealousy  every  now  and  then,  put  it  res* 


204  •     TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

olutely  back,  struggling  to  think  no  evil,  or  if  there  were 
any,  to  lay  it  on  his  own  shoulders. 

Cribbage  is  a  most  virtuous  and  respectable  game,  and 
yet  scarcely,  one  would  think,  possessing  in  itself  sufficient 
attractions  to  keep  a  young  gentleman  in  his  twentieth  year 
tied  to  the  board,  and  going  through  the  quaint  calcula- 
tion night  after  night  of  "  fifteen  two,  fifteen  four,  two  for 
his  nob,  and  one  for  his  heels."  The  landlady  of  "  The 
Choughs  "  liked  nothing  so  much  as  her  game  of  cribbage 
in  the  evenings,  and  the  board  lay  ready  on  the  little  table 
by  her  elbow  in  the  cozy  bar,  a  sure  stepping-stone  to  her 
good  graces.  Tom  somehow  became  an  enthusiast  in 
cribbage,  and  would  always  loiter  behind  his  companions 
for  his  quiet  game ;  chatting  pleasantly  while  the  old  lady 
cut  and  shuffled  the  dirty  pack,—striving  keenly  for  the 
nightly  stake  of  sixpence,  which  he  seldom  failed  to  lose, 
and  laughingly  wrangling  with  her  over  the  last  points  in 
the  game,  which  decided  the  transfer  of  the  two  sixpences 
(duly  posted  in  the  snuffer-tray  beside  the  cribbage-board) 
into  his  waistcoat  pocket  or  her  bag,  until  she  would  take 
off  her  spectacles  to  wipe  them,  and  sink  back  in  her  chair 
exhausted  with  the  pleasing  excitement. 

Such  on  odd  taste  as  it  seemed,  too,  a  bystander  might 
reasonably  have  thought,  when  he  might  have  been  em- 
ploying his  time  so  much  more  pleasantly  in  the  very 
room.  For,  flitting  in  and  out  of  the  bar  during  the  game, 
and  every  now  and  then  stooping  over  the  old  lady's  shoul- 
der to  examine  her  hand  and  exchange  knowing  looks 
with  her,  was  the  lithe  little  figure  of  Miss  Patty,  with 
her  oval  face,  and  merry  eyes,  and  bright  brown  hair,  and 
jaunty  little  cap,  with  fresh  blue  ribbons  of  the  shade  of 
the  St.  Ambrose  colors.  However,  there  is  no  accounting 
for  tastes,  and  it  is  fortunate  that  some  like  apples  and 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  205 

6ome  onions.  It  may  possibly  be,  too,  that  Miss  Patty  did 
not  feel  herself  neglected,  or  did  not  care  about  attention. 
Perhaps  she  may  not  have  been  altogether  unconscious 
that  every  least  motion  and  word  of  hers  was  noticed,  even 
when  the  game  was  at  its  keenest.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
clear  enough  that  she  and  Tom  were  on  the  best  terms, 
though  she  always  took  her  aunt's  part  vehemently  in  any 
little  dispute  which  arose,  and  sometimes  even  came  to 
the  rescue  at  the  end,  and  recaptured  the  vanished  six- 
pences out  of  the  wrongful  grasp  which  he  generally  laid 
on  them  the  moment  the  old  lady  held  out  her  hand  and 
pronounced  the  word  "  game."  One  knows  that  size  has 
little  to  do  with  strength,  or  one  might  have  wondered  that 
her  little  hands  should  have  been  able  to  open  his  fingers 
so  surely  one  by  one,  though  he  seemed  to  do  all  he  could 
to  keep  them  shut.  But,  after  all,  if  he  really  thought  he 
had  a  right  to  the  money,  he  had  always  time  to  put  it  in 
his  pocket  at  once,  instead  of  keeping  his  clenched  hand 
on  the  table,  and  arguing  about  till  she  had  time  to  get  up 
to  the  succor  of  her  aunt. 


18 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    FIRST   BUMP. 

"  What's  the  time,  Smith  ?  " 

"  Half-past  three,  old  fellow,"  answered  Diogenes,  look- 
ing at  his  watch. 

"  I  never  knew  a  day  go  so  slowly,"  said  Tom  ;  "  isn't 
it  lime  to  go  down  to  the  boats? " 

"  Not  by  two  hours  and  more,  old  fellow.  Can't  you 
take  a  book,  or  something,  to  keep  you  quiet  ?  You  wont 
be  fit  for  any  thing  by  six  o'clock,  if  you  go  on  worrying 
like  this."  And  so  Diogenes  turned  himself  to  his  flute, 
and  blew  away,  to  all  appearances  as  composedly  as  if  it 
had  been  the  first  week  of  term,  though,  if  the  truth  must 
be  told,  it  was  all  he  could  do  not  to  get  up  and  wander 
about  in  a  feverish  and  distracted  state,  for  Tom's  restless- 
ness infected  him. 

Diogenes'  whole  heart  was  in  the  college  boat :  and  so, 
though  he  had  pulled  dozens  of  races  in  his  time,  he  was 
almost  as  nervous  as  a  freshman  on  this  the  first  day  of  the 
races.  Tom,  all  unconscious  of  the  secret  discomposure 
of  the  other,  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  looked  at  him 
with  wonder  and  envy.  The  flute  went  "  toot,  toot,  toot," 
till  he  could  stand  it  no  longer ;  so  he  got  up  and  went  to 
the  window,  and,  leaning  out,  looked  up  and  down  the 
street  for  some  minutes  in  a  purposeless  sort  of  fashion, 
staring  hard  at  everybody  and  every  thing,  but  unconscious 
all  the  time  that  he  was  doing  so.  He  would  not  have 
been  able,  in  fact,  to  answer  Diogenes  a  word,  had  that 


I     TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  207 

worthy  inquired  of  him  what  he  had  seen,  when  he  pres- 
ently drew  in  his  head  and  returned  to  his  fidgety  rara- 
blings  about  the  room. 

"  How  hot  the  sun  is !  but  there's  a  stiff  breeze  from  the 
south-east.  I  hope  it  will  go  down  before  the  evening  ; 
don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  this  wind  will  make  it  very  rough  below  the  Gut. 
Mind  you  feather  high  now  at  starting." 

"  I  hope  to  goodness  I   sha'n't  catch  a  crab,"  said  Tom. 

"Don't  think  about  it,  old  fellow;  that's  your  best 
plan." 

"  But  I  can't  think  of  any  thing  else,"  said  Tom. 
"  What  the  deuce  is  the  good  of  telling  a  fellow  not  to 
think  about  it?" 

Diogenes,  apparently,  had  nothing  particular  to  reply, 
for  lie  put  his  flute.to  his  mouth  again  ;  and  at  the  sound 
of  the  "  toot,  toot,"  Tom  caught  up  his  gown  and  fled  away 
into  the  quadrangle. 

The  crew  had  had  their  early  dinner  of  steaks  and 
chops,  stale  bread,  and  a  glass  and  a  half  of  old  beer 
Hpiece,  at  two  o'clock,  in  the  captain's  rooms.  The  current 
theory  of  training  at  that  time  was — as  much  meat  as 
you  could  eat,  the  more  underdone  the  better,  and  the 
smallest  amount  of  drink  upon  which  you  could  manage 
to  live.  Two  pints  in  the  twenty-four  hours  was  all  that 
most  boats'  crews  that  pretended  to  train  at  all  were  al- 
lowed, and  for  the  last  fortnight  it  had  been  the  nominal 
allowance  of  the  St.  Ambrose  crew.  The  discomfort  of 
such  a  diet  in  the  hot  summer  months,  when  you  were  at 
the  .same  time  taking  regular  and  violent  exercise,  was 
something  very  serious.  Outraged  human  nature  rebelled 
ngainst  it ;  and,  I  take  it,  though  they  did  not  admit  it  in 
public,  there  were  very  few  men  who  did  not  rush  to  their 
water-bottles  for  relief,  more  or  less  often,  according  to  the 


208  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

development  of  their  bumps  of  conscientiousness  and  ob* 
stinacy.  To  keep  to  the  diet  at  all  strictly,  involved  a  very 
respectable  amount  of  physical  endurance.  I  am  thankful 
to  hear  that  our  successors  have  found  out  the  unwisdom 
of  this,  as  of  other  old  superstitions,  and  that  in  order  to 
get  a  man  into  training  for  a  boat-race  now-a-days,  it  is 
not  thought  of  the  first  importance  to  keep  him  in  a  con- 
stant state  of  consuming  thirst,  and  the  restlessness  of 
body  and  sharpness  of  temper  which  thirst  generally  in- 
duces. 

•  Tom  appreciated  the  honor  of  being  in  the  boat  in  his 
first  year  so  keenly,  that  he  had  almost  managed  to  keep 
to  his  training  allowance,  and  consequently,  now  that  the 
eventful  day  had  arrived,  was  in  a  most  uncomfortable 
state  of  bod}r  and  disagreeable  frame  of  mind. 

He  fled  away  from  Diogenes'  flutef  but  found  no  rest. 
He  tried  Drysdale.  That  hero  was  lying  on  his  back  on 
his  sofa  playing  with  Jack,  and  only  increased  Tom's  thirst 
and  soured  his  temper  by  the  viciousness  of  his  remarks 
on  boating,  and  every  thing  and  person  connected  there- 
with ;  above  all,  on  Miller,  who  had  just  come  up,  had 
steered  them  the  day  before,  and  pronounced  the  crew 
generally,  and  Drysdale  in  particular,  "  not  half  trained." 

Blake's  oak  was  sported,  as  usual.  Tom  looked  in  at 
the  captain's  door,  but  found  him  hard  at  work  reading; 
and  so  carried  himself  off;  and,  after  a  vain  hunt  after 
others  of  the  crew,  and  even  trying  to  sit  down  and  read, 
first  a  novel,  then  a  play  of  Shakspeare,  with  no  success 
whatever,  wandered  away  out  of  the  college,  and  found 
himself  in  five  minutes,  by  a  natural  and  irresistible  at- 
traction, on  the  university  barge. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  men  or  so  reading  the  papers, 
and  a  group  or  two  discussing  the  coming  races.  Amongst 
other  things,  the  chances  of  St.  Ambrose's  making  a  bump 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  203 

the  iirst  night  were  weighed.  Every  one  joined  in  prais- 
ing the  stroke,  but  there  were  great  doubts  whether  the 
crew  could  live  up  to  it.  Tom  carried  himself  on  to  the 
top  of  the  barge  to  get  out  of  hearing,  for  listening  made 
his  heart  beat  and  his  throat  dryer  than  ever.  He  stood  on 
the  top  and  looked  right  away  down  to  the  Gut,  the  strong 
wind  blowing  his  gown  about.  Not  even  a  pair  oar  was 
to  be  seen ;  the  great  event  of  the  evening  made  the  river 
a  solitude  at  this  time  of  day.  Only  one  or  two  skiiFs 
were  coming  home,  impelled  by  reading  men,  who  took 
their  constitutionals  on  the  water,  and  were  coming  in  to 
be  in  time  for  afternoon  chapel.  The  fastest  and  best  of 
these  soon  came  near  enough  for  Tom  to  recognize  Hardy's 
stroke :  so  he  left  the  barge  and  went  down  to  meet  the 
servitor  at  his  landing,  and  accompanied  him  to  the  St. 
Ambrose  dressing-room. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  feel  for  the  race  to-night  ?  "  said 
Hardy,  as  he  dried  his  neck  and  face,  which  he  had  been 
sluicing  with  cold  water,  looking  as  hard  and  bright  as  a 
racer  on  Derby  day. 

"  Oh,  wretched !  I'm  afraid  I  shall  break  down,"  said 
Tom,  and  poured  out  some  of  his  doubts  and  miseries. 
Hardy  soon  comforted  him  greatly ;  and  by  ihe  time  they 
were  half  across  Christchurch  Meadow  he  was  quite  in 
heart  again,  for  he  knew  how  well  Hardy  understood  row- 
ing, and  what  a  sound  judge  he  was,  and  it  was  therefore 
cheering  to  hear  that  he  thought  they  were  certainly  the 
second  best,  if  not  the  best,  boat  on  the  river,  and  that  they 
would  be  sure  to  make  some  bumps  unless  they  had  acci- 
dents. 

"But  that's  just  what  I  fear  so,"  said  Tom.  "I'm 
afraid  I  shall  make  some  awful  blunder." 

"  Not  you ! "  said  Hardy  ;  "  only  remember ;  don't  you 
fancy  you  can  pull  the  boat  by  yourself,  and  go  trying  to 
18* 


210  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

do  it.  That's  where  young  oars  fail.  If  you  keep  thor' 
ough  good  time  you'll  be  pretty  sure  to  be  doing  your 
share  of  work.     Time  is  every  thing,  almost." 

"  I'll  be  sure  to  think  of  that,"  said  Tom.  And  they 
entered  St.  Ambrose  just  as  the  chapel  "bell  was  going 
down,  and  he  went  to  chapel  and  then  to  hall,  sitting  by 
and  talking  for  companionship  while  the  rest  dined. 

And  so  at  last  the  time  slipped  away,  and  the  captain 
and  Miller  mustered  them  at  the  gates  and  walked  off  to 
the  boats.  .  A  dozen  other  crews  were  making  their  way 
in  the  same  direction,  and  half  the  undergraduates  of  Ox- 
ford streamed  along  with  them.  The  banks  of  the  river 
were  crowded ;  and  the  punts  plied  rapidly  backwards  and 
forwards,  carrying  loads  of  men  over  to  the  Berkshire 
side.  The  University  barge,  and  all  the  other  barges, 
were  decked  with  flags,  and  the  band  was  playing  lively 
airs  as  the  St.  Ambrose  crew  reached  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion. 

No  time  was  lost  in  the  dressing-room,  and  in  two  min- 
utes they  were  all  standing  in  flannel  trousers  and  silk 
jerseys  at  the  landing-place. 

"  You  had  better  keep  your  jackets  on,"  said  the  cap* 
tain ;  "  we  sha'n't  be  off  yet." 

"  There  goes  Brazen-nose." 

"  They  look  like  work  ;  don't  they  ?  " 

"The  black  and  yellow  seems  to  slip  along  so  fast. 
They've  no  end  of  good  colors.  I  wish  our  new  boat  was 
black." 

"  Hang  her  colors,  if  she's  only  stiff  in  the  back,  and 
don't  dip." 

"  Well,  she  didn't  dip  yesterday.  At  least,  the  men  on 
the  bank  said  so." 

"  There  go  Balliol  and  Oriel  and  University." 

"  By  Jove,  we  shall  be  late !     W  here's  Miller  ?  " 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  211 

rt  In  the  shed  getting  the  boat  out.  Look,  here's  Exe- 
tor." 

The  talk  of  the  crew  was  silenced  for  the  moment  a3 
every  man  looked  eagerly  at  the  Exeter  boat.  The  cap- 
tain nodded  to  Jervis  with  a  grim  smile  as  they  paddled 
gently  by. 

Then  the  talk  began  again. 

"  How  do  you  think  she  goes  ?  " 

"  Not  so  badly.  They're  very  strong  in  the  middle  of 
the  boat." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  it's  all  lumber." 

"  You'll  see.  They're  better  trained  than  we  are.  They 
look  as  fine  as  stars." 

"  So  they  ought.  They've  pulled  seven  miles  to  our 
five  for  the  last  month,  I'm  sure." 

"  Then  we  sha'n't  bump  them." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Don't  you  know  that  the  value  of  products  consists  in 
the  quantity  of  labor  which  goes  to  produce  them  ?    Prod 
uct,  pace  over  course  from  Iffiey  up.     Labor  expended, 
Exeter,  7  ;  St.  Ambrose,  5.     You  see  it  is  not  in  the  na- 
ture of  things  that  we  should  bump  them.  —  Q.E.D." 

u  "What  moonshine  !  as  if  ten  miles  behind  their  stroke 
are  worth  two  behind  Jervis  !  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  it  isn't  my  moonshine ;  you  must  set- 
tle the  matter  with  the  philosophers.  I  only  apply  a  uni- 
versal law  to  a  particular  case." 

Tom,  unconscious  of  the  pearls  of  economic  lore  which 
were  being  poured  out  for  the  benefit  of  the  crew,  was 
watching  the  Exeter  eight  as  it  glided  away  towards  the 
Cherwell.  He  thought  they  seemed  to  keep  horribly  good 
time. 

"  Holloa,  Drysdale  !  look ;  there's  Jack  going  across  in 
one  of  the  punts." 


212  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Of  course  he  is.  You  don't  suppose  he  wouldn't  go 
down  to  see  the  race." 

"  Why  wont  Miller  let  us  start  ?  Almost  all  the  boats 
are  off." 

"  There's  plenty  of  time.  We  may  just  as  well  be  up 
here  as  dawdling  about  the  bank  at  Iffley." 

"  We  sha'n't  go  down  till  the  last ; .  Miller  never  lets  U3 
get  out  down  below." 

"  Well,  come ;  here's  the  boat,  at  last." 

The  new  boat  now  emerged  from  its  shed,  guided  steadily 
to  where  they  were  standing  by  Miller  and  a  waterman. 
Then  the  coxswain  got  out  and  called  for  bow,  who  stepped 
forward. 

"  Mind  how  you  step,  now ;  there  are  no  bottom  boards, 
remember,"  said  Miller. 

"  Shall  I  take  my  jacket  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  had  better  all  go  down  in  jackets  in  this 
wind.  I've  sent  a  man  down  to  bring  them  back.  Now, 
two." 

"  Aye,  aye !  "  said  Drysdale,  stepping  forward.  Then 
came  Tom's  turn,  and  soon  the  boat  was  manned. 

"Now,"  said  Miller,  taking  his  place,  "are  all  your 
stretchers  right  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  a  little  more  greese  for  my  rollocks." 

"  I'm  taking  some  down ;  we'll  put  it  on  down  below. 
Are  you  all  right  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  push  her  off —  gently." 

The  St.  Ambrose  boat  was  almost  the  last,  so  there 
were  no  punts  in  the  way,  or  other  obstructions ;  and  they 
swung  steadily  down  past  the  University  barge,  the  top  of 
which  was  already  covered  with  spectators.  Every  man 
in  the  boat  felt  as  if  the  eyes  of  Europe  were  on  him, 
and  pulled  in  his  very  best  form.     Small  groups  of  gowns- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  213 

men  were  scattered  along  the  bank  in  Christchurdi 
meadow,  chiefly  dons,  who  were  realty  interested  in  the 
races,  but,  at  that  time  of  day,  seldom  liked  to  display  en- 
thusiasm enough  to  cross  the  water  and  go  down  to  the 
starting-place.  These  sombre  groups  were  lightened  up 
here  and  there  by  the  dresses  of  a  few  ladies,  who  were 
walking  up  anc^  down,  and  watching  the  boats.  At  the 
mouth  of  the  Cherwell  were  moored  two  punts,  in  which 
reclined  at  their  ease  some  dozen  young  gentlemen,  smok- 
ing ;  several  of  these  were  friends  of  Drysdale,  and  hailed 
him  as  the  boat  passed  them. 

"  What  a  fool  I  am  to  be  here ! "  he  grumbled,  in  an 
undertone,  casting  an  envious  glance  at  the  punts  in  their 
comfortable  berth,  up  under  the  banks,  and  out  of  the 
wind.  "  I  say,  Brown,  don't  you  wish  we  were  well  past 
this  on  the  way  up  ?  " 

"  Silence  in  the  bows  ! "  shouted  Miller. 

"  You  devil,  how  I  hate  you !  "  growled  Drysdale,  half 
in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  as  they  sped  along  under  the 
willows. 

Tom  got  more  comfortable  at  every  stroke,  and  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  Gut  began  to  hope  that  he  should 
not  have  a  fit,  or  lose  all  his  strength  just  at  the  start,  or 
cut  a  crab,  or  come  to  some  other  unutterable  grief,  the 
fear  of  which  had  been  haunting  him  all  day. 

"  Here  they  are  at  last !  —  come  along  now  —  keep  up 
with  them,"  said  Hardy  to  Grey,  as  the  boat  neared  the 
Gut ;  and  the  two  who  had  been  waiting  on  the  bank, 
trotted  along  downwards,  Hardy  watching  the  crew,  and 
Grey  watching  him. 

"  Hardy,  how  eager  you  look !  " 

"  I'd  give  twenty  pounds  to  be  going  to  pull  in  the 
race." 

Grey  shambled  on  in  silence  by  the  side  of  his  big  friend, 


214  TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

and  wished  he  could  understand  what  it  was  that  moved 
him  so. 

As  the  boat  shot  into  the  Gut  from  under  the  cover  of 
the  Oxfordshire  bank,  the  wind  caught  the  bows. 

"  Feather  high,  now,"  shouted  Miller ;  and  then  added 
in  a  low  voice  to  the  captain,  "  It  will  be  ticklish  work 
starting  in  this  wind."  • 

"  Just  as  bad  for  all  the  other  boats,"  answered  the  sap- 
tain. 

'•Well  said,  old  philosopher!"  said  Miller.  "It's  a 
comfort  to  steer  you ;  you  never  make  a  fellow  nervous. 
I  wonder  if  you  ever  felt  nervous  yourself,  now?" 

"  Can't  say,"  said  the  captain.  "  Here's  our  post ;  we 
may  as  well  turn." 

"  Easy,  bow  side  —  now,  two  and  four,  pull  her  round- 
back  water,  seven  and  five  !  "  shouted  the  coxswain  ;  and 
the  boat's  head  swung  round,  and  two  or  three  strokes  took 
into  the  bank. 

Jack  instantly  made  a  convulsive  attempt  to  board,  but 
was  sternly  repulsed,  and  tumbled  backwards  into  the 
water. 

Hark !  —  the  first  gun.  The  report  sent  Tom's  heart 
into  his  mouth  again.  Several  of  the  boats  pushed-  oft'  at 
once  into  the  stream  ;  and  the  crowds  of  men  on  the  bank 
began  to  be  agitated,  as  it  were,  by  the  shadow  of  the  com- 
ing excitement.  The  St.  Ambrose  fingered  their  oars,  put 
a  last  dash  of  grease  on  their  rollocks,  and  settled  their 
feet  against  the  stretchers. 

"  Shall  we  push  her  off?  "  asked  bow. 

"  No  ;  I  can  give  you  another  minute,"  said  Miller,  who 
was  sitting,  watch  in  hand,  in  the  stern ;  "  only  be  smart 
when  I  give  the  word." 

The  captain  turned  on  his  seat,  and  looked  up  the  boat. 
His  face  was  quiet,  but  full  of  confidence,  which  seemed  to 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  215 

pass  from  him  into  the  crew.  Tom  felt  calmer  and 
stronger,  as  he  met  his  eye.  "Now  mind,  boys,  don't 
quicken,"  he  said,  cheerily ;  "  four  short  strokes  to  get  way 
on  her,  and  then  steady.     Here,  pass  up  the  lemon." 

.And  he  took  a  sliced  lemon  out  of  his  pocket,  put  a 
small  piece  in  his  own  mouth,  and  then  handed  it  to  Blake, 
who  followed  his  example,  and  passed  it  on.  Each  man 
took  a  piece ;  and  just  as  bow  had  secured  the  end,  Miller 
called  out,  — 

"Now,  jackets  off,  and  get  her  head  out  steadily." 

The  jackets  were  thrown  on  shore,  and  gathered  up  by 
the  boatman  in  attendance.  The  crew  poised  their  oars, 
No.  2  pushing  out  her  head,  and  the  captain  doing  the 
same  for  the  stern.  Miller  took  the  starting-rope  in  his 
hand. 

"  How  the  wind  catches  her  stern,"  he  said ;  "  here,  pay 
out  the  rope  one  of  you.  No,  not  you  —  some  fellow  with 
a  strong  hand.  Yes,  you'll  do,"  he  went  on,  as  Hardy 
stepped  down  the  bank  and  took  hold  of  the  rope ;  "  let 
me  have  it  foot  by  foot  as  I  want  it.  Not  too  quick ; 
make  .the  most  of  it  —  that'll  do.  Two  and  three,  just  dip 
your  oars  in  to  give  her  way." 

The  rope  paid  out  steadily,  and  the  boat  settled  to  her 
place.  But  now  the  wind  rose  again,  and  the  stern  drifted 
in  towards  the  bank. 

"  You  must  back  her  a  bit,  Miller,  and  keep  her  a  little 
further  out  or  our  oars  on  stroke  side  will  catch  the  bank." 

"  So  I  see  ;  curse  the  wind.  Back  her,  one  stroke  alL 
Back  her,  I  say ! "  shouted  Miller. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  get  a  crew  to  back  her  an  inch 
just  now,  particularly  as  there  are  in  her  two  men  who 
have  never  rowed  a  race  before,  except  in  the  torpids,  and 
one  who  has  never  rowed  a  race  in  his  life. 

However,  back  she  comes ;  the  starting  rope  slackens 


216  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

in  Miller's  left  hand,  and  the  stroke,  unshipping  his  oar, 
pushes  the  stern  gently  out  again. 

There  goes  the  second  gun !  one  short  minute  more, 
and  we  are  off.  Short  minute,  indeed !  you  wouldn't  say 
.so  if  you  were  in  the  boat,  with  your  heart  in  your  mouth 
and  trembling  all  over  like  a  man  with  the  palsy.  Those 
sixty  seconds  before  the  starting  gun  in  your  first  race  — 
why,  they  are  a  little  lifetime. 

u  By  Jove,  we  are  drifting  in  again,"  said  Miller,  in  hor- 
ror. The  captain  looked  grim  but  said  nothing ;  it  was 
too  late  now  for  him  to  be  unshipping  again.  "  Here, 
catch  hold  of  the  long  boat-hook,  and  fend  her  off." 

Hardy,  to  whom  this  was  addressed,  seized  the  boat- 
hook,  and,  standing  with  one  foot  in  the  water,  pressed  the 
end  of  the  boat-hook  against  the  gunwale,  at  the  full  stretch 
of  his  arm,  and  so,  by  main  force,  kept  the  stern  out. 
There  was  just  room  for  stroke  oars  to  dip,  and  that  was 
all.  The  starting  rope  was  as  taut  as  a  harp-string ;  will 
Miller's  left  hand  hold  out? 

It  is  an  awful  moment.  But  the  coxswain,  though  al- 
most dragged  backwards  off  his  seat,  is  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion. He  holds  his  watch  in  his  right  hand  with  the  til- 
ler rope. 

"Eight  seconds  more  only.  Look  out  for  the  flash. 
Remember,  all  eyes  in  the  boat." 

There  it  comes,  at  last  —  the  flash  of  the  starting  gun. 
Long  before  the  sound  of  the  report  can  roll  up  the  river, 
the  whole  pent-up  life  and  energy  which  has  been  held  in 
leash,  as  it  were,  for  the  last  six  minutes,  is  loose,  and 
breaks  away  with  a  bound  and  a  dash  which  he  who  has 
felt  it  will  remember  for  his  life,  but  the  like  of  which,  will 
he  ever  feel  again  ?  The  starting  ropes  drop  from  the 
coxswain's  hands,  the  oars  flash  into  the  water,  and  gleam 
on  the  feather,  the  spray  flies  from  them,  and  the  boats 
leap  forward. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  217 

The  crowds  on  the  bank  scatter,  and  rush  alung,  each 
keeping  as  near  as  may  be  to  its  own  boat.  Some  of  the 
men  on  the  towing-path,  some  on  the  very  edge  of,  often 
in,  the  water ;  some  slightly  in  advance,  as  if  they  could 
help  to  drag  their  boat  forward ;  some  behind,  where  they 
can' see  the  pulling  better;  but  all  at  full  speed,  in  wild 
excitement,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices  to  those 
on  whom  the  honor  of  the  College  is  laid. 

"Well  pulled,  all!"  "Pick  her  up  there,  five!" 
"  You're  gaining  every  stroke ! "  "  Time  in  the  bows  !  " 
"Bravo,  St.  Ambrose!" 

On  they  rush  by  the  side  of  the  boats,  jostling  one 
another,  stumbling,  struggling,  and  panting  along. 

For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  bank  the  glorious, 
maddening  hurly-burly  extends,  and  rolls  up  the  side  of 
the  stream. 

For  the  first  ten  strokes,  Tom  was  in  too  great  fear  of 
making  a  mistake  to  feel  or  hear  or  see.  His  whole  soul 
was  glued  to  the  back  of  the  man  before  him,  his  one 
thought  to  keep  time  and  get  his  strength  into  the  stroke. 
But  as  the  crew  settled  down  into  the  well-known  long 
sweep,  what  we  may  call  consciousness  .returned;  and, 
while  every  muscle  in  his  body  was  straining,  and  his 
chest  heaved,  and  his  heart  leapt,  every  nerve  seemed  to 
be  gathering  new  life,  and  his  senses  to  wake  into  un- 
wonted acuteness.  He  caught  the  scent  of  wild  thyme  in 
the  air,  and  found  room  in  his  brain  to  wonder  how  it 
could  have  got  there,  as  he  had  never  seen  the  plant  near 
the  river,  or  smelt  it  before.  Though  his  eye  never  wan- 
dered from  the  back  of  Diogenes,  he  seemed  to  see  all 
things  at  once.  The  boat  behind,  which  seemed  to  be 
gaining ;  —  it.  was  all  he  could  do  to  prevent  himself  from 
quickening  on  the  stroke  as  he  fancied  that;  —  the  eager 
face  of  Miller,  with  his  compressed  lips,  and  eyes  fixed  so 
19 


218  TOM   BROWN    A.T    OXFORD. 

earnestly  ahead  that  Tom  could  almost  feel  the  glance 
passing  over  his  right  shoulder  ;  the  flying  banks  and  the 
shouting  crowd ;  see  them  with  his  bodily  eyes  he  could 
not,  but  he  knew,  nevertheless,  that  Grey  had  been  upset 
and  nearly  rolled  down  the  bank  into  the  water  in  the 
first  hundred  }7ards,  that  Jack  was  bounding  and  scram- 
bling and  barking  along  by  the  very  edge  of  the  stream ; 
above  all,  he  was  just  as  well*  aware  as  if  he  had  been 
looking  at  it,  of  a  stalwart  form  in  cap  and  gown,  bound 
ing  along,  brandishing  the  long  boat-hook,  and  always 
keeping  just  opposite  the  boat ;  and  amid  all  the  Babel  of 
voices,  and  the  dash  and  pulse  of  the  stroke,  and  the  la- 
boring of  his  own  breathing,  he  heard  Hardy's  voice  com- 
ing to  him  arain  and  a<rain,  and  clear  as  if  there  had  been 
no  other  sound  in  the  air,  "  Steady,  two !  steady !  well 
pulled  !  steady,  steady."  The  voice  seemed  to  give  him 
strength  and  keep  him  to  his  work.  And  what  work  it 
was !  he  had  had  many  a  hard  pull  in  the  last  six  weeks, 
but  never  aught  like  this. 

But  it  can't  last  forever ;  men's  muscles  are  not  steel, 
or  their  lungs  bulls'  hide,  and  hearts  can't  go  on  pumping 
a  hundred  miles  an  hour  long,  without  bursting.  The  St. 
Ambrose  boat  is  well  away  from  the  boat  behind,  there  is 
a  great  gap  between  the  accompanying  crowds  ;  and  now, 
as  they  near  the  Gut,  she  hangs  for  a  moment  or  two  in 
hand,  though  the  roar  from  the  bank  grows  louder  and 
louder,  and  Tom  is  already  aware  that  the  St.  Ambrose 
crowd  is  melting  into  the  one  ahead  of  them. 

"  We  must  be  close  to  Exeter ! "  The  thought  flashes 
into  him,  and,  it  would  seem,  into  the  rest  of  the  crew  at 
the  same  moment ;  for,  all  at  once,  the  strain  seems  taken 
off  their  arms  again  ;  there  is  no  more  drag ;  she  springs 
to  the  stroke  as  she  did  at  the  start ;  and  Miller's  face, 
which  had  darkened  for  a  few  seconds,  lightens  up  again. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  219 

Millers  face  and  attitude  are  a  stud}'.  Coiled  up  into 
the  smallest  possible  space,  his  chin  almost  resting  on  his 
knees,  his  hands  close  to  his  sides,  firmly  but  lightly  feel* 
ing  the  rudder,  as  a  good  horseman  handles  the  mouth  of 
a  free-going  hunter ;  if  a  coxswain  could  make  a  bump  by 
his  own  exertions,  surely,  he  will  do  it.  No  sudden  jerks 
of  the  St.  Ambrose  rudder  will  you  see,  watch  as  you  will 
from  the  bank ;  the  boat  never  hangs  through  fault  of  his, 
but  easily  and  gracefully  rounds  every  point.  "  You're 
gaining !  you're  gaining ! "  he  now  and  then  mutters  to 
the  captain,  who  responds  with  a  wink,  keeping  his  breath 
for  other  matters.  Isn't  he  grand,  the  captain,  as  he  comes 
forward  like  lightning,  stroke  after  stroke,  his  back  flat, 
his  teeth  set,  his  whole  frame  working  from  the  hips  with 
the  regularity  of  a  machine  ?  As  the  space  still  narrows, 
the  eyes  of  the  fiery  little  coxswain  flash  with  excitement, 
but  he  is  far  too  good  a  judge  to  hurry  the  final  effort  be- 
fore the  victory  is  safe  in  his  grasp. 

The  two  crowds  are  mingled  now,  and  no  mistake  ;  and 
the  shouts  come  all  in  a  heap  over  the  water.  "  Now,  St. 
Ambrose,  six  strokes  more."  "  Now,  Exeter,  you're  gain- 
ing ;  pick  her  up."  "  Mind  the  Gut,  Exeter."  "  Bravo, 
St.  Ambrose  !  "  The  water  rushes  by,  still  eddying  from 
the  strokes  of  the  boat  ahead.  Tom  fancies  now  he  can 
hear  their  oars  and  the  workings  of  their  rudder,  and  the 
voice  of  their  coxswain.  In  another  moment  both  boats 
are  in  the  Gut,  and  a  perfect  storm  of  shouts  reaches  them 
from  the  crowd,  as  it  rushes  madly  off  to  the  left  to  the 
foot-bridge,  amidst  which  "  Oh,  well  steered,  well  steered, 
St.  Ambrose  !  "  is  the  prevailing  cry.  Then  Miller,  mo- 
tionless as  a  statue  till  now,  lifts  his  right  hand  and  whirls 
the  tassel  round  his  head.  "  Give  it  her  now,  boys ;  six 
strokes  and  we're  into  them."  Old  Jervis  lays  down 
that  grea*  broad   back,  and  lashes  his  oar  through  the 


220  TOM!   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

water  with  the  might  of  a  giant,  the  crew  cf*tch  him  up  in 
another  stroke,  the  tight  new  boat  answers  to  the  spurt, 
and  Tom  feels  a  little  shock  behind  him,  and  then  a  grat- 
ing sound,  as  Miller  shouts,  "  Unship  oars,  bow  and  three!" 
and  the  nose  of  the  St.  Ambrose  boat  glides  quietly  up 
the  side  of  the  Exeter,  till  it  touches  their  stroke  oar. 

"  Take  care  where  you're  coming  to."  It  is  the  cox- 
swain -of  the  bumped  boat  who  speaks. 

Tom  finds  himself  within  a  foot  or  two  of  him  when  he 
looks  round ;  and,  being  utterly  unable  to  contain  his  joy, 
and  yet  unwilling  to  exhibit  it  before  the  eyes  of  a  gallant 
rival,  turns  away  towards  the  shore,  and  begins  telegraph- 
ing to  Hardy. 

"  Now,  then,  what  are  you  at  there  in  the  bows  ?  Cast 
her  off,  quick.  Come,  look  alive !  Push  across  at  once 
out  of  the  way  of  the  other  boats." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Jervis,"  says  the  Exeter  stroke,  as 
the  St.  Ambrose  boat  shoots  past  him.  "  Do  it  again  next 
race  and  I  sha'n't  care." 

"We  were  within  three  lengths  of  Brazen-nose  when  we 
bumped,"  says  the  all-observant  Miller,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  All  right,"  answers  the  captain ;  "  Brazen-nose  isn't 
so  strong  as  usual.  We  sha'n't  have  much  trouble  there, 
but  a  tough  job  up  above,  I  take  it." 

"  Brazen-nose  was  better  steered  than  Exeter." 

"  They  muffed  it  in  the  Gut,  eh  ?  "  said  the  captain.  "  I 
thought  so  by  the  shouts." 

"  Yes,  we  were  pressing  them  a  little  down  below,  and 
their  coxswain  kept  looking  over  his  shoulder.  He  was 
in  the  Gut  before  he  knew  it,  and  had  to  pull  his  left 
hand  hard,  or  they  would  have  fouled  the  Oxfordshire 
corner.     That  stopped  their  way,  and  in  we  wTent." 

"  Bravo  !  and  how  well  we  started  too." 

"  Yes,  thanks  to  that  Hardy.      It  was  touch  and  go 


TOU   BROWN   Al    OXFORD.  221 

though;    I    couldn't    have   held   the   rope   t.vo   seconds 
more." 

"  How  did  our  fellows  work  ?  She  dragged  a  good  deal 
below  the  Gut." 

Miller  looked  somewhat  serious,  but  even  he  cannot  be 
finding  fault  just  now  ;  for  the  first  step  is  gained,  the  first 
victory  won ;  and,  as  Homer  sometimes  nods,  so  Miller 
relaxes  the  sternness  of  his  rule.  The  crew,  as  soon 
as  they  have  found  their  voices  again,  laugh  and  talk  and 
answer  the  congratulations  of  their  friends,  as  the  boat 
slips  along  close  to  the  towing-path  on  the  Berks  side, 
"easy  all,"  almost  keeping  pace,  nevertheless,  with  the 
lower  boats,  which  are  racing  up  under  the  willows  on  the 
Oxfordshire  side.  Jack,  after  one  or  two  feints,  makes  a 
frantic  bound  into  the  water,  and  is  hauled  dripping  into 
the  boat  by  Drysdale,  unchid  by  Miller,  but  to  the  intense 
disgust  of  Diogenes,  whose  pantaloons  and  principles  are 
alike  outraged  by  the  proceeding.  He  —  the  Cato  of  the 
oar — scorns  to  relax  the  strictness  of  his  code,  even  after 
victory  won.  Neither  word  nor  look  does  he  cast  to  the 
exulting  St.  Ambrosians  on  the  bank ;  a  twinkle .  in  his 
eye,  and  a  subdued  chuckle  or  two,  alone  betray  that  though 
an  oarsman  he  is  mortal.  Already  he  revolves  in  his  mind 
the  project  of  an  early  walk  under  a  few  pea-coats,  not 
being  quite  satisfied  (conscientious  old  boy  !)  that  he  tried 
his  stretcher  enough  in  that  final  spurt,  and  thinking  that 
there  must  be  an  extra  pound  of  flesh  on  him  somewhere 
or  other  which  did  the  mischief. 

"  I  say,  Brown,"  said  Drysdale,  "  how  do  you  feel  ?  " 
"  All  right,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  never  felt  jollier  in  my  life." 
"  By  Jove,  though,  it  was  an  awful  grind ;  didn't  you 
wish  yourself  well  out  of  it  below  the  Gut?" 
"  No,  r  or  you  either/' 
19* 


222  TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Didn't  I  though !  I  was  awfully  baked,  my  throat  is 
like  a  lime-kiln  yet.     What  did  you  think  about  ?  " 

"  Well,  about  keeping  time,  I  think,"  said  Tom,  laugh- 
ing, "  but  I  can't  remember  much." 

"  I  only  kept  on  by  thinking  how  I  hated  those  devils 
in  the  Exeter  boat,  and  how  done  up  they  must  be,  and 
hoping  their  Number  2  felt  like  having  a  fit." 

At  this  moment  they  came  opposite  the  Cherwell.  The 
leading  boat  was  just  passing  the  winding-post,  off  the 
University  barge,  and  the  band  struck  up  the  "  Conquer- 
ing Hero,"  with  a  crash.  And  while  a  mighty  sound  of 
shouts,  murmurs,  and  music  went  up  into  the  evening  sky, 
Miller  shook  the  tiller-ropes  again,  the  captain  shouted, 
"Now  then,  pick  her  up,"  and  the  St.  Ambrose  boat  shot 
up  between  the  swarming  banks  at  racing  pace  to  her 
la«ding-place,  the  lion  of  the  evening.  ■ 

Dear  readers  of  the  gentler  sex !  you,  I  know,  will  par- 
dcn  the  enthusiasm  which  stirs  our  pulses,  now  in  sober 
middle  age,  as  we  call  up  again  the  memories  of  this  the 
most  exciting  sport  of  our  boyhood  (for  we  were  but  boys, 
then,  after  all).  You  will  pardon,  though  I  fear  hope- 
Jeisly  unable  to  understand  the  above  sketch ;  your  sons 
and  brothers  will  tell  you  it  could  not  have  been  made  less 
technical. 

For  you,  male  readers,  who  have  never  handled  an  oar, 
—  what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  You,  at  least,  I  hope,  in  some 
way  —  in  other  contests  of  one  kind  or  another  —  have 
felt  as  we  felt,  and  have  striven  as  we  strove.  You  ought 
to  understand  and  sympathize  with  us  in  all  our  boating 
memories.  Oh,  how  fresh  and  sweet  they  are !  Above 
all  that  one  of  the  gay  little  Henley  town,  the  carriage- 
crowded  bridge,  the  noble  river  reach,  the  giant  poplars, 
which  mark  the  critical  point  of  the  course  —  the  roaring 


"*  TOM!    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  223 

column  of  "  undergrades,"  light  blue  and  dark  purple,  Can- 
tab and  Oxonian,  alike  and  yet  how  different,  — hurling 
along  together,  and  hiding  the  towing-path  —  the  clang 
of  Henley  church-bells  —  the  cheering,  the  waving  of  em- 
broidered handkerchiefs,  and  glancing  of  bright  eyes,  the 
ill-concealed  pride  of  fathers,  the  open  delight  and  exulta* 
tion  of  mothers  and  sisters  —  the  levee  in  the  town-hall 
when  the  race  was  rowed,  the  great  cup  full  of  champagne 
(inn-champagne,  but  we  were  not  critical)  —  the  chops,  the 
steaks,  the  bitter  beer  —  but  we  run  into  anti-climax  — 
remember,  we  were  boys  then,  and  bear  with  us  if  you 
cannot  sympathize. 

And  you,  old  companions,  Qpavirai,  benchers  (of  the  gal- 
lant eight-oar),  now  seldom  met,  but  never-forgotten, 
lairds,  squires,  soldiers,  merchants,  lawyers,  grave  J.P.'s, 
graver  clergymen,  gravest  bishops  (for  of  two  bishops  at 
least  does  our  brotherhood  boast),  I  turn  for  a  moment 
from  my  task,  to  reach  to  you  the  right  hand  of  fellowship 
from  these  pages,  and  empty  this  solemn  pewter — trophy 
of  hard-won  victory  —  to  your  health  and  happiness. 

Surely,  none  the  worse-  Christians  and  citizens  are  ye 
for  your  involuntary  failing  of  muscularity  I 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  CHANGE  IN  THE  CREW,  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  that  the  St.  Ambrose  boat  mado 
the  first  bump,  described  in  our  last  chapter.  On  the  next 
Saturday,  the  day-week  after  the  first  success,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  our  hero  was  at  the  door  of  Hardy's 
rooms.  He  just  stopped  for  one  moment  outside,  with 
his  hand  on  the  lock,  looking  a  little  puzzled,  but  withal 
pleased,  and  then  opened  the  door  and  entered.  The  little 
estrangement  which  there  had  been  between  them  for 
some  weeks,  had  passed  away  since  the  races  had  begun. 
Hardy  had  thrown  himself  into  the  spirit  of  them  so 
thoroughly,  that  he  had  not  only  regained  all  his  hold  on 
Tom,  but  had  warmed  up  the  whole  crew  in  his  favor, 
and  had  mollified  the  martinet  Miller  himself.  It  was  he 
who  had  managed  the  starting  rope  in  every  race,  and 
his  voice  from  the  towing  path  had  come  to  be  looked 
upon  as  a  safe  guide  for  clapping  on  or  rowing  steady. 
Even  Miller,  autocrat  as  he  was,  had  come  to  listen  for  it, 
in  confirmation  of  his  own  judgment,  before  calling  on 
the  crew  for  the  final  effort. 

So  Tom  had  recovered  his  old  footing  in  the  servitor's 
rooms ;  and,  when  he  entered  on  the  night  in  question, 
did  so  with  the  bearing  of  an  intimate  friend.  Hardy's 
tea  commons  were  on  one  end  of  the  table  as  usual,  and 
he  was  sitting  at  the  other  poring  over  a  book.  Tom 
marched  straight  up  to  him,  and  leant  over  his  shoulder. 

"  What,  here  you  are  at  the  perpetual  grind,"  he  said. 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  225 

"  Come,  shut  up,  and  give  me  some  tea ;  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

Hardy  looked  up  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  Are  you  up  to  a  cup  of  tea  ?  •  he  said  ;  "  look  here,  I 
was  just  reminded  of  you  fellows.  Shall  I  construe  for 
you?" 

He  pointed  with  his  finger  to  the  open  page  of  the  book 
he  was  reading.  It  was  the  Knights  of  Aristophanes,  and 
Tom,  leaning  over  his  shoulder,  read,  — 

"  Kara  Kadl^ov  fialantig  tva  fir}  Tpi(3rjC  Tyv  fa  Salaiuvi"  etc. ! 

After  meditating  a  moment,  he  burst  out,  "  You  hard- 
hearted old  ruffian !  I  come  here  for  sympathy,  and  the 
first  thing  you  do  is  to  poke  fun  at  me  out  of  your  wretched 
classics !  I've  a  good  mind  to  clear  out,  and  not  do  my 
errand." 

"  What's  a  man  to  do  ?  "  said  Hardy.  "  I  hold  that  it's 
always  better  to  laugh  at  fortune.  What's  the  use  of 
repining  ?  You  have  done  famously,  and  second  is  a  capi- 
tal place  on  the  river." 

"Second  be  hanged!"  said  Tom.  ."We  mean  to  be 
first." 

"  Well,  I  hope  we  may  ?  "  said  Hardy.  "  I  can  tell  you 
nobody  felt  it  more  than  I  —  not  even  old  Diogenes  — 
when  you  didn't  make  your  bump  to-night." 

"  Now  you  talk  like  a  man,  and  a  Saint  Ambrosian," 
said  Tom.  "But  what  do  you  think?  Shall  we  ever 
catch  them?"  and,  so  saying,  he  retired  to  a  chair  oppo- 
site the  tea-things. 

"  No,"  said  Hardy  ;  "  I  "don't  think  we  ever  shall.  I'm 
very  sorry  to  say  it,  but  they  are  an  uncommonly  strong 
lot,  and  we  have  a  weak  place  or  two  in  our  crew.  I  don't 
think  we  can  do  more  than  we  did  to-night  —  at  least  with 
the  present  crew." 


226  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"But  if  we  could  get  a  little  more  strength  we 
might?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  Jervis'  stroke  is  worth  two  of  theirs. 
A  very  little  more  powder  would  do  it." 

"  Then  we  must  have  a  little  more  powder." 

"  Ay,  but  how  are  we  to  get  it  ?  Who  can  you  put 
in?" 

"  You  ! "  said  Tom,  sitting  up.  "  There,  now,  that's 
just  what  I  am  oirae  about.  Drysdale  is  to  go  out.  Will 
you  pull  next  race  ?     They  all  want  you  to  row." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  said  Hardy,  quietly  (but  Tom  could  see- 
that  his  eyes  sparkled  at  the  notion,  though  he  was  too 
proud  to  show  how  much  he  was  pleased) ;  "  then  they  had 
better  come  and  ask  me  themselves." 

"  Well,  you  cantankerous  old  party,  they're  coming,  I 
can  tell  you  ! "  said  Tom,  in  great  delight.  "  The  captain 
just  sent  me  on  to  break  ground,  and  will  be  here  directly 
himself.  I  say  now,  Hardy,"  he  went  on,  "  don't  you  say 
no.  I've  set  my  heart  upon  it.  I'm  sure  we  shall  bump 
them  if  you  pull." 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  said  Hardy,  getting  up,  and  begin- 
ning to  make  tea,  to  conceal  the  excitement  he  was  in  at 
the  idea  of  rowing ;  ls  you  see  I'm  not  in  training." 

"  Gammon,"  said  Tom,  "  you're,  always  in  training,  and 
you  know  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  can't  be  in  worse  than  Drys- 
dale. He  has  been  of  no  use  above  the  Gut  this  last 
three  nights." 

"  That's  just  what  Miller  says,"  said  Tom,  "  and  here 
comes  the  captain."  There  "was  a  knock  at  the  door 
while  he  spoke,  and  Jervis  and  Miller  entered. 

Tom  was  in  a  dreadful  fidget  for  the  next  twenty  min- 
utes, and  may  best  be  compared  to  an  enthusiastic  envoy 
negotiating  a  commercial  treaty,  and  suddenly  finding  his 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  227 

action  impeded  by  the  arrival  of  bis  principals.  Miller 
was  very  civil,  but  not  pressing ;  be  seemed  to  bave  come 
more  with  a  view  of  talking  over  the  present  state  of 
things,  and  consulting  upon  them,  than  of  enlisting  a  re- 
cruit. Hardy  met  him  more  than  half-way,  and  specu- 
lated on  all  sorts  of  possible  issues,  without  a  bint  of  vol- 
unteering himself.  But  presently  Jervis,  who  did  not 
understand  finessing,  broke  in,  and  asked  Hardy,  point- 
blank,  to  pull  in  the  next  race  ;  and  when  he  pleaded 
want  of  training,  overruled  him  at  once,  by  saying  that 
there  was  no  better  training  than  sculling.  So  in  half  an 
hour  all  was  settled.  Hardy  was  to  pull  five  in  the  next 
race,  Diogenes  was  to  take  Blake's  place  at  No.  7,  and 
Blake  to  take  Drysdale's  oar  at  No.  2.  The  whole  crew 
were  to  go  for  a  long  training  walk  the  next  day,  Sunday, 
in  the  afternoon  ;  to  go  down  to  Abingdon  on  Monday,  just 
to  get  into  swing  in  their  new  places,  and  then  on  Tues- 
day to  abide  the  fate  of  war.  They  had  half  an  hour's 
pleasant  talk  over  Hardy's  tea,  and  then  separated. 

"  I  always  told  you  he  was  our  man,"  said  the  captain 
to  Miller,  as  they  walked  together  to  the  gates  ;  "  we  want 
strength,  and  he  is  as  strong  as  a  horse.  You  must  have 
seen  him  sculling  yourself.  There  isn't  his  match  on  the 
river  to  my  mind." 

"  Yes,  I  think  he'll  do,"  replied  Miller ;  "  at  any  rate,  he 
can't  be  worse  than  Drysdale." 

As  for  Tom  and  Hardy,  it  may  safely  be  said  that  no 
two  men  in  Oxford  went  to  bed  in  better  spirits  that  Satur- 
day night  than  they  two. 

And  now  to  explain  how  it  came  about  that  Hardy  was 
wanted.  Fortune  had  smiled  upon  the  St.  Ambrosians  in 
the  two  races  which  succeeded  the  one  in  which  they  had 
bumped  Exeter.  They  had  risen  two  more  places  with- 
out any  very  great  trouble.     Of  course,  the  constituencies 


228  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

on  the  bank,  magnified  their  powers  and  doings.  Ther$ 
never  was  such  a  crew,  they  were  quite  safe  to  be  head  of 
the  river,  nothing  could  live  against  their  pace.  So  the 
young  oars  in  the  boat  swallowed  all  they  heard,  thought 
themselves  the  finest  fellows  going,  took  less  and  less  pains 
to  keep  up  their  condition,  and  when  they  got  out  of  ear- 
shot of  Jervis  and  Diogenes,  were  ready  to  bet  two  to  one 
that  they  would  bump  Oriel  the  next  night,  and  keep 
easily  head  of  the  river  for  the  rest  of  the  races. 

Saturday  night  came,  and  brought  with  it  a  most  useful 
though  unpalatable  lesson  to  the  St.  Ambrosians.  The 
Oriel  boat  was  manned  chiefly  by  old  oars,  seasoned  in 
many  a  race,  and  not  liable  to  panic  when  hard  pressed. 
They  had  a  fair  though  not  a  firstrate  stroke,  and  a  good 
coxswain ;  experts  remarked  that  they  were  rather  too 
heavy  for  their  boat,  and  that  she  dipped  a  little  when  they 
put  on  any  thing  like  a  severe  spurt;  but  on  the  whole 
they  were  by  no  means  the  sort  of  crew  you  could  just 
run  into  hand  over  hand.  So  Miller  and  Diogenes 
preached,  and  so  the  Ambrosians  found  out  to  their  cost. 

They  had  the  pace  of  the  other  boat,  and  gained  as 
usual  a  boat's  length  before  the  Gut ;  but,  first  those  two 
fatal  corners  were  passed,  and  then  other  well-remem- 
bered spots  where  former  bumps  had  been  made,  and  still 
Miller  made  no  sign  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  looked  gloomy 
and  savage.  The  St.  Ambrosian  shouts  from  the  shore, 
loo,  changed  from  the  usual  exultant  peals  into  something 
like  a  quaver  of  consternation,  while  the  air  was  rent  with 
the  name  and  laudations  of  "  little  Oriel." 

Long  before  the  Cherwell  Drysdale  was  completely 
baked  (he  had  played  truant  the  day  before  and  dined  at 
the  Weirs,  where  he  had  imbibed  much  dubious  hock), 
but  he  from  old  habit  managed  to  keep  time.  Tom  and 
the  other  young  oars  got  flurried,  and  quickened;  the 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  229 

boat  dragged,  there  was  no  life  left  in  her,  and,  though 
they  managed  just  to  hold  their  first  advantage,  could  not 
put  hei  a  foot  nearer  the  stern  of  the  Oriel  boat,  whicll 
glided  past  the  winning-post  a  clear  boat's  length  ahead 
of  her  pursuers,  and  with  a  crew  much  less  distressed. 

Such  races  must  tell  on  strokes  ;  and  even  Jervis,  who 
had  pulled  magnificently  throughout,  was  very  much  done 
at  the  close,  and  leant  over  his  oar  with  a  swimming  in 
his  head,  and  an  approach  to  faintness,  and  was  scarcely 
able  to  see  for  a  minute  or  so.  Miller's  indignation  knew 
no  bounds,  but  he  bottled  it  up  till  he  had  manoeuvred 
the  crew  into  their  dressing-room  by  themselves,  Jervis 
having  stopped  below.  Then  he  let  out,  and  did  not 
spare  them.  "  They  would  kill  their  captain,  whose  little 
finger  was  worth  the  whole  of  them ;  they  were  disgrac- 
ing the  college ;  three  or  four  of  them  had  neither  heart, 
head,  nor  pluck."  They  all  felt  that  this  was  unjust,  for 
after  all  had  they  not  brought  the  boat  up  to  the  second 
place?  Poor  Diogenes  sat  in  a  corner  and  groaned; 
he  forgot  to  prefix  "  old  fellow  "  to  the  few  observations 
he  made.  Blake  had  great  difficulty  in  adjusting  his 
necktie  before  the  glass ;  he  merely  remarked  in  a  pause 
of  the  objurgation,  "  In  faith,  coxswain,  these  be  very  bit- 
ter words."  Tom  and  most  of  the  others  were  too  much 
out  of  heart  to  resist ;  but  at  last  Drysdale  fired  up  — 

"  You've  no  right  to  be  so  savage  that  I  can  see,"  he 
said,  stopping  the  low  whistle  suddenly  in  which  he  was 
indulging,  as  he  sat  on  the  corner  of  the  table ;  "  you  seem 
to  think  No.  2  the  weakest  out  of  several  weak  places  in 
the  boat." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Miller. 

"  Then  this  honorable  member,"  said  Drysdale,  getting 
off  the  table,  "  seeing  that  his  humble  t  fforts  are  unap- 
20 


£30  TOM   BROTVN   AT   OXFORD. 

preciated,  thinks  it  best  for  the  public  service  to  place  Lia 
resignation  in  the  hands  of  your  coxswainship." 

"  Which  my  coxswainship  is  graciously  pleased  to  ac- 
cept," replied  Miller. 

"Hurrah  for  a  roomy  punt  and  a  soft  cushion  next 
racing  night  —  it's  almost  worth  while  to  have  been  row- 
ing all  this  time,  to  realize  the  sensations  I  shall  feel  when 
I  see  you  fellows  passing  the  Cherwell  on  Tuesday." 

"Suave  est,  it's  what  I'm  partial  to,  mari  magno,  in  the 
.last  reach,  a  terra,  from  the  towing-path,  alterius  mag- 
num spectare  laborem,  to  witness  the  tortures  of  you 
wretched  beggars  in .  the  boat.  I'm  obliged  to  translate 
for  Drysdale,  who  never  learned  Latin,"  said  Blake,  fin- 
ishing his  tie,  and  turning  to  the  company.  There  was 
an  awkward  silence.  Miller  was  chafing  inwardly  and 
running  over  in  his  mind  what  was  to  be  done;  and  no- 
body else  seemed  quite  to  know  what  ought  to  happen 
next,  when  the  door  opened  and  Jervis  came  in. 

"  Congratulate  me,  my  captain,"  said  Drysdale  ;  "  I'm 
well  out  of  it  at  last." 

Jervis  "  pished  and  pshaw'd  "  a  little  at  hearing  what 
had  happened,  but  his  presence  acted  like  oil  on  the 
waters.  The  moment  that  the  resignation  was  named, 
Tom's  thoughts  had  turned  to  Hardy.  Now  was  the 
time  —  he  had  such  confidence  in  the  man,  that  the  idea 
of  getting  him  in  for  next  race  entirely  changed  the  as- 
pect of  affairs  to  him,  and  made  him  feel  as  "bumptious" 
again  as  he  had  done  in  the  morning.  So  with  this  idea 
in  his  head,  he  hung  about  till  the  captain  had  made  his 
toilet,  and  joined  himself  to  him  and  Miller  as  they 
walked  up. 

"  Well,  what  are  we  to  do  now  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"That's  just  what  you   have  to  settle,"  said  Miller; 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  231 

"you  have  been  up  all  the  term,  and  know  the  men's  pull- 
ing better  than  I." 

"  I  suppose  we  must  press  somebody  from  the  torpid  — 
let  me  see,  there's  Burton." 

"  He  rolls  like  a  porpoise,"  interrupted  Miller  posi- 
tively ;  "  impossible." 

"  Stewart  might  do  then." 

"Never  kept  time  for  three  strokes  in  his  life,"  said 
Miller. 

"  Well,  there  are  no  better  men,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Then  we  may  lay  our  account  to  stopping  where  we 
*re,  if  we  don't  even  lose  a  place,"  said  Miller. 

"  Dust  unto  dust,  what  must  be,  must ; 
If  you  can't  get  crumb,  you'd  best  eat  crust," 

said  the  captain. 

"  It's  all  very  well  talking  coolly  now,"  said  Miller, 
"  but  you'll  kill  yourself  trying  to  bump,  and  there  are 
three  more  nights." 

"  Hardy  would  row  if  you  asked  him,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Tom. 

The  captain  looked  at  Miller,  who  shook  his  head. 
"  I  don't  think  it,"  he  said ;  "  I  take  him  to  be  a  shy  bird 
that  wont  come  to  everybody's  whistle.  We  might  have 
had  him  two  years  ago,  I  believe  —  I  wish  we  had." 

"  I  always  told  you  so,"  said  Jervis  ;  "  at  any  rate,  let's 
Iry  him.  He  can  but  say  no,  and  I  don't  think  he  will, 
for  you  see  he  has  been  at  the  starting-pface  every  night, 
And  as  keen  as  a  freshman  all  the  time." 

"  I'm  sure  he  wont,"  said  Tom  ;  "  I  know  he  would  give 
nny  thing  to  pull." 

"  You  had  better  go  to  his  rooms  and  sound  him,"  said 
the  captain  ;  "  Miller  and  I  will  follow  in  half  an  hour/' 
We  have  already  heard  how  Tom's  mission  prospered. 

The  next  day,  at  a  few  minutes  before  two  o'clock,  the 


232  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

St.  Ambrose  crew,  including  Hardy,  with  Miller  (who 
was  a  desperate  and  indefatigable  pedestrian)  for  leader, 
crossed  Magdalen  Bridge.  At  five  they  returned  to  col- 
lege, having  done  a  little  over  fifteen  miles,  fair  heel  and 
toe  walking,  in  the  interval.  The  afternoon  had  been 
very  hot,  and  Miller  chuckled  to  the  captain,  "  I  don't 
think  there  will  be  much  trash  left  in  any  of  them  after 
that.  That  fellow  Hardy  is  as  fine  as  a  race-horse,  and, 
did  you  see,  he  never  turned  a  hair  all  the  way." 

The  crew  dispersed  to  their,  rooms,  delighted  with  the 
performance  now  that  it  was  over,  and  feeling  that  they 
were  much  the  better  for  it,  though  they  all  declared  it 
had  been  harder  work  than  any  race  they  had  yet  pulled. 
It  would  have  done  a  trainer's  heart  good  to  have  seen 
them,  some  twenty  minutes  afterwards,  dropping  into  Hall 
(where  they  were  allowed  tp  dine  on  Sundays,  on  the 
joint),  fresh  from  cold  baths,  and  looking  ruddy  and 
clear,  and  hard  enough  for  any  thing. 

Again  on  Monday,  not  a  chance  was  lost.  The  St, 
Ambrose  boat  started  soon  after  one  o'clock  for  Abingdon. 
They  swung  steadily  down  the  whole  way,  and  back 
again  to  Sandford  without  a  single  spurt ;  Miller  gener- 
ally standing  in  the  stern,  and  preaching  above  all  things 
steadiness  and  time.  From  Sandford  up,  they  were  ac- 
companied by  half  a  dozen  men  or  so,  who  ran  up  the 
bank  watching  them.  The  struggle  for  the  first  place  on 
the  river  was  cheating  great  excitement  in  the  rowing 
world,  and  these  were  some  of  the  most  keen  connois- 
seurs, who,  having  heard  that  St.  Ambrose  had  changed  a 
man,  were  on  the  look-out  to  satisfy  themselves  as  to  how 
it  would  work.  The  general  opinion  was  veering  round 
in  favor  of  Oriel ;  changes  so  late  in  the  races,  and  at 
Buch  a  critical  moment,-were  looked  upon  as  very  damag- 
ing. 


TOM   BItOWN   AT    OXFORD.  23$ 

Foremost  amongst  the  runners  on  the  bank  was  a  wiry 
dark  man,  with  sanguine  complexion,  who  went  with  a 
peculiar  long,  low  stride,  keeping  his  keen  eye  well  on 
the  boat.  Just  above  Kennington  Island,  Jervis,  noticing 
this  particular  spectator  for  the  first  time,  called  on  the 
crew,  and,  quickening  his  stroke,  took  them  up  the  reach 
at  racing  pace.  As  they  lay  in  IfHey  lock  the  dark  man 
appeared  above  them,  and  exchanged  a  few  words,  and  a 
good  deal  of  dumb  show,  with  the  captain  and  Miller,  and 
tl.en  disappeared. 

From  Iffley  up  they  went  steadily  again.  On  the 
whole,  Miller  seemed  to  be  in  very  good  spirits  in  the 
dressing-room  ;  he  thought  the  boat  trimmed  better,  and 
went  better  than  she  had  ever  done  before,  and  compli- 
jnented  Blake  particularly  for  the  ease  with  which  he  had 
changed  sides.  They  all  went  up  in  high  spirits,  calling 
on  their  way  at  "The  Choughs"  for  one  glass* of  old  ale 
round,  which  Miller  was  graciously  pleased  to  allow.  Tom 
never  remembered  till  after  they  were  out  again,  that 
Hardy  had  never  been  there  before,  and  felt  embarrassed 
for  a  moment,  but  it  soon  passed  off.  A  moderate  dinner 
and  early  to  bed  finished  the  day,  and  Miller  was  justified 
in  his  parting  remark  to  the  captain,  "  Well,  if  we  don't 
win,  we  can  comfort  ourselves  that  we  hav'n't  dropped  a 
stitch  this  last  two  days,  at  any  rate." 

Then  the  eventful  day  arose  which  Tom  and  many 
another  man  felt  was  to  make  or  mar  St.  Ambrose.  It 
was  a  glorious  early  summer  day,  without  a  cloud,  scarcely 
a  breath  of  air  stirring.  "  "We  shall  have  a  fair  start,  at 
any  rate,"  was  the  general  feeling.  We  have  already 
seen  what  a  throat-drying,  nervous  business,  the  morning 
and  afternoon  of  a  race-day  is,  and  must  not  go  over  the 
same  ground  more  than  we  can  help ;  so  we  will  imagine 
20* 


234  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

the  St.  Ambrose  boat  down  at  the  starting- place,  lying 
close  to  the  towing-path,  just  before  the  first  gun. 

There  is  a  much  greater  crowd  than  usual  opposite  the 
two  first  boats.  By  this  time  most  of  the  other  boats 
have  found  their  places,  for  there  is  not  much  chance  of 
any  thing  very  exciting  down  below  ;  so,  besides  the  men  of 
Oriel  and  St.  Ambrose  (who  muster  to-night  of  all  sorts, 
the  fastest  of  the  fast  and  slowest  of  the  slow  having  been 
by  this  time  shamed  into  something  like  enthusiasm),  many 
of  other  colleges,  whose  boats  have  no  chance  of  bumping 
or  being  bumped,  flock  to  the  point  of  attraction. 

"  Do  you  make  out  what  the  change  is  ?  "  says  a  backer 
of  Oriel  to  his  friend  in  the  like  predicament. 

"  Yes  ;  they've  got  a  new  No.  5  ;  don't  you  see  ?  and,  by 
George,  I  don't  like  his  looks,"  answered  his  friend ;  "  aw- 
fully long  and  strong  in  the  arm,  and  well  ribbed  up.  A 
devilish  awkward  customer.  I  shall  go  and  try  to  get  a 
hedge." 

"  Pooh,"  says  the  other,  "  did  you  ever  know  one  man 
win  a  race  ?  " 

"  Ay,  that  I  have,"  says  his  friend,  and  walks  off  towards 
the  Oriel  crowd  to  take  five  to  four  on  Oriel  in  half  sov- 
ereigns, if  he  can  get  it. 

Now  their  dark  friend  of  yesterday  comes  up  at  a  trot, 
and  pulls  up  close  to  the  captain,  with  whom  he  is  evi- 
dently dear  friends.  He  is  worth  looking  at,  being  cox- 
swain of  the  O.  U.  B.,  the  best  steerer,  runner,  and  swim- 
mer, in  Oxford ;  amphibious  himself,  and  sprung  from  an 
amphibious  race.  His  own  boat  is  in  no  danger,  so  he  has 
left  her  to  take  care  of  herself.  He  is  on  the  look-out  for 
recruits  for  the  University  crew,  and  no  recruiting  ser- 
geant has  a  sharper  eye  for  the  sort  of  stuff  he  requires. 

"  What's  his  name  ?  "  he  says  in  a  low  tone  to  Jervis, 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  235 

giving  a  jerk  with  his  head  towards  Hardy.  "  Where 
did  you  get  him  ?  " 

"  Hardy,"  answers  the  captain  in  the  same  tone ;  "  it's 
his  first  night  in  the  boat." 

"  I  know  that,"  replies  the  coxswain ;  "  I  never  saw  him 
row  before  yesterday.  He's  the  fellow  who  sculls  in  that 
brown  skiff;  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  he'll  do ;  keep  your  eye  on  him." 

The  coxswain  nods  as  if  he  were  pretty  much  of  the 
same  mind,  and  examines  Hardy  with  the  eye  of  a  con- 
noisseur, pretty  much  as  the  judge  at  an  agricultural  show 
looks  at  the  prize  bull.  Hardy  is  tightening  the  strap  of 
his  stretcher,  and  all-unconscious  of  the  compliments 
which  are  being  paid  him.  The  great  authority  seems 
satisfied  with  his  inspection,  grins,  rubs  his  hands,  and 
trots  off  to  the  Oriel  boat  to  make  comparisons. 

Just  as  the  first  gun  is  heard,  Gray  sidles  nervously  to 
the  front  of  the  crowd  as  if  he  were  doing  something  very 
audacious,  and  draws  Hardy's  attention,  exchanging  sym- 
pathizing nods  with  him,  but  saying  nothing,  for  he  knows 
not  what  to  say,  and  then  disappearing  again  in  the 
crowd. 

"  Hallo,  Drysdale,  is  that  you  ?  "  says  Blake,  as  they 
push  off  from  the  shore.  "  I  thought  you  were  going  to 
take  it  easy  in  a  punt." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  Drysdale ;  "  but  I  couldn't  keep 
away,  and  here  I  am.  I  shall  run  up  ;  and  mind,  if  I  see 
you  within  ten  feet,  and  cocksure  to  win,  I'll  give  a  view 
holloa.     I'll  be  bound  you  shall  hear  it." 

"  May  it  come  speedily,"  said  Blake,  and  then  settled 
himself  in  his  seat. 

"  Eyes  in  the  boat  —  mind  now,  steady  all,  watch  tho 
Btroke  and  don't  quicken." 

These  are  Miller's  last  words ;  every  faculty  of  himself 


236  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

and  the  crew  being  now  devoted  to  getting  a  good  stark 
This  is  no  difficult  matter,  as  the  water  is  like  glass,  and 
the  boat  lies  lightly  on  it,  obeying  the  slightest  dip  of  the 
oars  of  bow  and  two,  who  just  feel  the  water  twice  or 
thrice  in  the  last  minute.  Then,  after  a  few  moments  of 
breathless  hush  on  the  bank,  the  last  gun  is  fired  and  they 
are  off. 

The  same  scene  of  mad  excitement  ensues,  only  ten- 
fold more  intense,  as  almost  the  whole  interest  of  the  races 
is  to-night  concentrated  on  the  two  head  boats  and  their 
fate.  At  every  gate  there  is  a  jam,  and  the  weaker  ves- 
sels are  shoved  into  the  ditches,  upset,  and  left  unnoticed. 
The  most  active  men,  including  the  0.  U.  B.  coxswain, 
shun  the  gates  altogether,  and  take  the  big  ditches  in  their 
stride,  making  for  the  long  bridges,  that  they  may  get 
quietly  over  these  and  be  safe  for  the  best  part  of  the  race. 
They  know  that  the  critical  point  of  the  struggle  will  be 
near  the  finish. 

Both  boats  make  a  beautiful  start,  and  again  as  before 
in  the  first  dash  the  St.  Ambrose  pace  tells,  and  they  gain 
their  boat's  length  before  first  winds  fail ;  then  they  settle 
down  for  a  long,  steady  effort.  Both  crews  are  rowing 
comparatively  steady,  reserving  themselves  for  the  tug  of 
war  up  above.  Thus  they  pass  the  Gut,  and  so  those  two 
treacherous  corners,  the  scene  of  countless  bumps,  into 
the  wider  water  beyond,  up  under  the  willows. 

Miller's  face  is  decidedly  hopeful ;  he  shows  no  sign, 
indeed,  but  you  can  see  that  he  is  not  the  same  man  as  he 
was  at  this  place  in  the  last  race.  He  feels  that  to-day 
the  boat  is  full  of  life,  and  that  he  can  call  on  his  crew 
with  hopes  of  an  answer.  His  well-trained  eye  also  de- 
tects that,  while  both  crews  are  at  full  stretch,  his  own, 
instead  of  losing,  as  it  did  on  the  last  night,  is  now  gain- 
ing inch  by  inch  on  Oriel.     The  gain  is  scarcely  perceptj- 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  237 

lie  to  liim  even  ;  from  the  bank  it  is  quite  impel  eeptible  ; 
but  there  it  is ;  he  is  surer  and  surer  of  it,  as  one  after 
another  the  willows  are  left  behind. 

And  now  comes  the  pinch.  The  Oriel  captain  is  begin- 
ning to  be  conscious  of  the  fact  which  has  been  dawning 
on  Miller,  but  will  not  acknowledge  it  to  himself,  and  as 
his  coxswain  turns  the  boat's  head  gently  across  the  stream, 
and  makes  for  the  Berkshire  side  and  the  goal,  now  full 
in  view,  he  smiles  grimly  as  he  quickens  his  stroke ;  he 
will  shake  off  these  light-heeled  gentry  yet,  as  he  did 
before. 

Miller  sees  the  move  in  a  moment,  and  signals  hi3 
captain,  and  the  next  stroke  St.  Ambrose  has  quickened 
also ;  and  now  there  is  no  mistake  about  it,  St.  Ambrose 
is  creeping  up  slowly  but  surely.  The  boat's  length  les- 
sens to  forty  feet,  thirty  feet ;  surely  and  steadily  lessens. 
But  the  race  is  not  lost  yet ;  thirty  feet  is  a  short  space 
enough  to  look  at  on  the  water,  but  a  good  bit  to  pick  up 
foot  by  foot  in  the  last  two  hundred  yards  of  a  desperate 
struggle.  They  are  over  under  the  Berkshire  side  now, 
and  there  stands  up  the  winning-post,  close  ahead,  all  but 
won.  The  distance  lessens  and  lessens  still,  but  the  Oriel 
crew  stick  steadily  and  gallantly  to  their  work,  and  will 
fight  every  inch  of  distance  to  the  last.  The  Orielites  on 
the  bank,  who  are  rushing  along,  sometimes  in  the  water, 
sometimes  out,  hoarse,  furious,  madly  alternating  between 
hope  and  despair,  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  a  man 
in  the  crew.  Off  the  mouth  of  the  Cherwell  there  is  still 
twenty  feet  between  them.  Another  minute,  and  it  will 
be  over  one  way  or  another.  Every  man  in  both  crews 
is  now  doing  his  best,  and  no  mistake :  tell  me  which  boat 
holds  the  most  men  who  can  do  better  than  their  best  at 
a  pinch,  who  will  risk  a  broken  bloodvessel,  and  I  will 
;ell  you  how  it  will  end.     "  Hard  pounding,  gentlemen, 


238  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

let's  see  who  will  pound  longest,"  the  duke  is  reported  to 
have  said  at  "Waterloo,  and  won.  "  Now,  Tummy,  lad, 
'tis  thou  or  I,"  Big  Ben  said  as  he  came  up  to  the  last 
round  of  his  hardest  fight,  and  won.  Is  there  a  man  of 
that  temper  in  either  crevi.  to-night?  If  so,  now's  his 
time.  For  both  coxswains  have  called  on  their  men  for 
the  last  effort ;  Miller  is  whirling  the  tassel  of  his  right- 
hand  tiller  rope  round  his  head,  like  a  wiiy  little  lunatic ; 
from  the  towing-path,  from  Christchurch  Meadow,  from 
the  rows  of  punts,  from  the  clustered  tops  of  the  barges, 
comes  a  roar  of  encouragement  and  applause,  and  the 
band,  unable  to  resist  the  impulse,  breaks  with  a  crash 
into  the  "  Jolly  Young  Waterman,"  playing  two  bars  to 
the  second.  A  bump  in  the  Gut  is  nothing  —  a  few  parti- 
sans on  the  towing-path  to  cheer  you,  already  out  of 
breath ;  but  up  here  at  the  very  finish,  with  all  Oxford 
looking  on,  when  the  prize  is  the  headship  of  the  river ; 
once  in  a  generation  only  do  men  get  such  a  chance. 

Who  ever  saw  Jervis  not  up  to  his  work  ?  The  St. 
Ambrose  stroke  is  glorious.  Tom  had  an  atom  of  go  still 
left  in  the  very  back  of  his  head,  and  at  this  moment  he 
heard  Drysdale's  view  holloa  above  all  the  din ;  it  seemed 
to  give  him  a  lift,  and  other  men  besides  in  the  boat,  for 
in  another  six  strokes  the  gap  is  lessened  and  St.  Am- 
brose has  crept  up  to  ten  feet,  and  now  to  five  from  the 
stern  of  Oriel.  Weeks  afterwards  Hardy  confided  to 
Tom  that  when  he  heard  that  view  halloa  he  seemed  to 
feel  the  muscles  of  his  arms  and  legs  turn  into  steel,  and 
did  more  work  in  the  last  twenty  strokes  than  in  any 
other  forty  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  race. 

Another  fifty  yards  and  Oriel  is  safe,  but  the  look  on 
the  captain's  face  is  so  ominous  that  their  coxswain 
glances  over  his  shoulder.  The  bow  of  St.  Ambrose  ia 
within  two  feet  of  their  rudder.     It  is  a  moment  for  de.» 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  239 

perate  expedients.  He  pulls  his  left  tiller  rope  suddenly, 
thereby  carrying  the  stern  of  his  own  boat  out  of  the  line 
of  the  St.  Ambrose,  and  calls  on  his  crew  once  more; 
they  respond  gallantly  yetf  but  the  rudder  is  against  them 
for  a  moment,  and  the  boajt  drags.  St.  Ambrose  over- 
laps. "  A  bump,  a  bump,"  shout  tho  St.  Ambrosians  on 
shore.  "  Row  on,  row  on,"  screams  Miller.  He  has  not 
yet  felt  the  electric  shock,  and  knows  he  will  miss  his 
bump  if  the  young  ones  slacken  for  a  moment.  A  young 
coxswain  would  have  gone  on  making  shots  at  the  stern 
of  the  Oriel  boat,  and  so  have  lost. 

A  bump  now  and  no  mistake ;  the  bow  of  the  St.  Am- 
brose boat  jams  the  oar  of  the  Oriel  stroke,  and  the  two 
boats  pass  the  winning-post  with  the  way  that  was  on 
them  when  the  bump  was  made.     So  near  a  shave  was  it. 

To  describe  the  scene  on  the  bank  is  beyond  me.  It 
was  a  hurly-burly  of  delirious  joy,  in  the  midst  of  which 
took  place  a  terrific  combat  between  Jack  and  the  Oriel 
dog  —  a  noble  black  bull  terrier  belonging  to  the  college 
in  general,  and  no  one  in  particular  —  who  always  at- 
tended the  races  and  felt  the  misfortune  keenly.  Luckily, 
they  were  parted  without  worse  things  happening;  for 
though  the  Oriel  men  were  savage,  and  not  disinclined 
for  a  jostle,  the  milk  of  human  kindness  was  too  strong 
for  the  moment  in  their  adversaries,  and  they  extricated 
themselves  from  the  crowd,  carrying  off  Crib  their  dog, 
and  looking  straight  before  them  into  vacancy. 

"  Well  rowed,  boys,"  says  Jervis,  turning  round  to  his 
crew  as  they  lay  panting  on  their  oars. 

"  Well  rowed,  five,"  says  Miller,  who  even  in  the  hour 
of  such  a  triumph  is  not  inclined  to  be  general  in  lauda- 
tion. 

"  Well  rowed,  five,"  is  echoed  from  the  bank ;  it  is  that 
cunning   man,   the    recruiting-sergeant.      "  Fatally   well 


240  TOM   BROWN  AT    OXFORD. 

# 

rowed,"  he  adds  to  a  comrade,  with  whom  he  gets  into 
one  of  the  punts  to  cross  to  Christchurch  Meadow ;  "  we 
must  have  him  in  the  University  crew." 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  get  him  -to  row,  from  what  I  hear," 
answers  the  other. 

"Then  he  must  be  handcuffed  and  carried  into  the 
boat  by  force,"  says  the  coxswain  O.  U.  B. ;  "  why  is  not 
the  pressgang  an  institution  in  this  university  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   STORM   BREWS   AND    BREAKS. 

Cer  tainly  Drysdale's  character .  came  out  well  thai 
night.  He  did  not  seem  the  least  jealous  of  the  success 
which  had  been  achieved  through  his  dismissal.  On  the 
contrary,  there  was  no  man  in  the  college  who  showed 
more  interest  in  the  race,  or  joy  at  the  result,  than  he. 
Perhaps  the  pleasure  of  being  out  of  it  himself  may  have 
reckoned  for  something  with  him.  In  any  case,  there  he 
was  at  the  door  with  Jack,  to  meet  the  crew  as  they 
landed  after  the  race,  with  a  large  pewter  foaming  with 
shandygaff,  in  each  hand,  for  their  recreation.  Draco 
himself  could  not  have  forbidden  them  to  drink  at  that 
moment ;  so,  amidst  shaking  of  hands  and  clappings  on 
the  back,  the  pewters  travelled  round  from  stroke  to  bow, 
and  then  the  crew  went  off  to  their  dressing-room,  accom- 
panied by  Drysdale  and  others. 

"  Bravo !  it  was  the  finest  race  that  has  been  seen  on 
the  river  this  six  years ;  everybody  says  so.  You  fel- 
lows have  deserved  well  of  your  country.  I've  sent  up 
to  college  to  have  supper  in  my  rooms,  and  you  must  all 
come.  Hang  training !  there  are  only  two  more  nights, 
and  you're  safe  to  keep  your  place.  What  do  you  say, 
captain  ?  eh,  Miller  ?     Now  be  good-natured  for  once." 

"  Miller,  what  do  you  say  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"  "Well,  we  don't  get  head  of  the  river  every  night," 
said  Miller.     "  I  don't  object  if  you'll  all  turn  out  and  go 
to  bed  at  eleven." 
21 


242  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Drysdale  ;  "  and  now  let's  go  to 
the  old  '  Choughs'  and  have  a  glass  of  ale  while  supper 
is  getting  ready.  Eh,  Brown  ?  "  and  he  hooked  his  arm 
into  Tom's  and  led  the  way  into  the  town. 

"  I'm  so  sorry  you  were  not  in  it  for  the  finish,"  said 
Tom,  who  was  quite  touched  by  his  friend's  good-humor. 

"  Are  you  ?  "  said  Drysdale  ;  "  it's  more  than  I  am  then, 
I  can  tell  you.  If  you  could  have  seen  yourself  under 
the  willows,  you  wouldn't  have  thought  yourself  much  of 
an  object  of  envy.  Jack  and  I  were  quite  satisfied  with 
our  share  of  work  and  glory  on  the  bank.  "Weren't  we, 
old  fellow  ?  "  at  which  salutation  Jack  reared  himself  on 
his  hind  legs  and  licked  his  master's  hand. 

"  "Well,  you're  a  real  good  fellow  for  taking  it  as  you 
do.  I  don't  think  I  could  have  come  near  the  river  if  I 
had  been  you." 

"  I  take  every  thing  as  it  comes,"  said  Drysdale.  "  The 
next  race  is  on  Derby  day,  and  I  couldn't  have  gone  if  I 
hadn't  been  turned  out  of  the  boat ;  that's  a  compensation, 
yo-j  see.  Here  we  are  ;  I  wonder  if  Miss  Patty  has  heard 
of  the  victory?" 

They  turned  down  the  little  passage-entrance  of  the 
0  Choughs"  as  he  spoke,  followed  by  most  of  the  crew,  and 
by  a  tail  of  younger  St.  Ambrosians,  their  admirers,  and 
the  bar  was  crowded  the  next  moment.  Patty  was  there, 
of  course,  and  her  services  were  in  great  requisition ;  for 
though  each  of  the  crew  only  took  a  small  glass  of  the 
old  ale,  they  made  as  much  fuss  about  it  with  the  pretty 
barmaid  as  if  they  were  drinking  hogsheads.  In  fact,  it 
had  become  clearly  the  correct  thing  with  the  St.  Ambro- 
sians to  make  much  of  Patty ;  and,  considering  the  cir- 
cumstances, it  was  only  a  wonder  that  she  was  not  more 
spoilt  than  seemed  to  be  the  case.  Indeed,  as  Hardy 
stood  up  in  the  corner  opposite  to   the   landlady's  chair,  a 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  243 

fcilent  on-looker  at  the  scene,  he  couldn't  help  admitting  to 
himself  that  the  girl  held  her  own  well,  without  doing  or 
saying  any  thing  unbecoming  a  modest  woman.  And  it 
*was  a  hard  thing  for  him  to  be  fair  to  her,  for  what  he 
saw  now  in  a  few  minutes  confirmed  the  impression  which 
his  former  visit  had  left  on  his  mind  —  that  his  friend 
was  safe  in  her  toils ;  how  deeply,  of  course,  he  could  not 
judge,  but  that  there  was  more  between  them  than  he 
could  approve  was  now  clear  enough  to  him,  and  he  stood 
silent,  leaning  against  the  wall  in  that  furthest  corner,  in 
the  shadow  of  a  projecting  cupboard,  much  distressed  in 
mind,  and  pondering  over  what  it  behoved  him  to  do  un- 
der the  circumstances.  With  the  exception  of  a  evil 
sentence  or  two  to  the  old  landlady,  who  sat  opposite  mm 
knitting,  and  casting  rather  uneasy  looks  from  time  to 
time  towards  the  front  of  the  bar,  he  spoke  to  no  one.  In 
fact,  nobody  came  near  that  end  of  the  room,  and  £  eir 
existence  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten  by  the  rest. 

Tom  had  been  a  little  uncomfortable  for  the  first 
minute  ;  but  after  seeing  Hardy  take  his  glass  of  ale,  and 
then  missing  him,  he  forgot  all  about  him,  and  was  too 
busy  with  his  own  affairs  to  trouble  himself  further.  He 
had  become  a  sort  of  drawer  or  barman  at  the  "  Choughs," 
and  presided,  under  Patty,  over  the  distribution  of  the 
ale,  giving  an  eye  to  his  chief  to  see  that  she  was  not  put 
upon. 

Drysdale  and  Jack  left  after  a  short  stay,  to  see  that 
the  supper  was  being  properly  prepared.  Soon  after- 
wards Patty  went  off  out  of  the  bar  in  answer  to  some 
bell  which  called  her  to  another  part  of  the  house ;  and 
the"  St.  Ambrosians  voted  that  it  was  time  to  go  off  to  col- 
lege to  supper,  and  cleared  out  into  the  street. 

Tom  went  out  with  the  last  batch  of  them,  but  lingered 
a  moment  in  the  passage  outside.     He  knew  the  house 


244  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

and  its  ways  well  enough  by  this  time.  The  nest  mo- 
ment Patty  appeared  from  a  side  door,  which  led  to 
another  part  of  the  house. 

"  So  you're  not  going  to  stay  to  play  a  game  witlf 
aunt,"  she  said ;  "  what  makes  you  in  such  a  hurry  ?  " 

"  I  must  go  up  to  college ;  there's  a  supper  to  celebrate 
our  getting  head  of  the  river."  Patty  looked  down  and 
pouted  a  little.  Tom  took  her  hand,  and  said,  sentimen- 
tally, "  Don't  be  cross  now ;  you  know  that  I  would 
eooner  stay  here ;  don't  you  ?  " 

She  tossed  her  head,  and  pulled  away  her  hand,  and 
then  changing  the  subject,  said,  — 

"  Who's  that  ugly  old  fellow  who  was  here  again  to- 
night?" 

"  There  was  no  one  older  than  Miller,  and  he  is  rather 
an  admirer  of  yours.  I  shall  tell  him  you  called  him 
ugly." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  Mr.  Miller ;  you  know  that  well 
enough,"  she  answered.  "  I  mean  him  in  the  old  rough 
coat,  who  don't  talk  to  any  one." 

"Ugly  old  fellow,  Patty?  Why,  you  mean  Hardy. 
He's  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  you  must  like  him  for 
my  sake." 

"  I'm  sure  I  wont.  I  don't  like  him  a  bit ;  he  looks  so 
cross  at  me." 

"  It's  all  your  fancy.     There  now,  good-night." 

"  You  sha'n't  go,  however,  till  you've  given  me  that 
handkerchief.  You  promised  it  me  if  you  got  head  of  the 
river." 

"  O  you  little  story-teller.  Why,  they  are  my  college 
colors.  I  wouldn't  part  with  them  for  worlds.  I'll  give 
you  a  lock  of  my  hair,  and  the  prettiest  handkerchief  you 
can  "find  in  Oxford  ;  but  not  this." 

"But  1  will  have  it,  and  you  did  promise  me  it,"  she 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  2-15 

paid,  and  put  up  her  hands  suddenly,  and  untie  il  the  how 
of  Tom's  neck-handkerchief.  He  caught  her  wrists  in 
his  hands,  and  looked  down  into  her  eyes,  in  which,  if  he 
saw  a  little  pique  at  his  going,  he  saw  other  things  which 
stirred  in  him  strange  feelings  of  triumph  and  tenderness. 

"  "Well,  then,  you  shall  pay  for  it,  anyhow,"  he  said,  — 
Why  need  I  tell  what  followed  ?  —  There  was  a  little 
struggle  ;  a  "  Go  along,  do,  Mr.  Brown ; "  and  the  next 
minute  Tom,  minus  his  handkerchief,  was  hurrying  after 
his  companions ;  and  Patty  was  watching  him  from  the 
door,  and  setting  her  cap  to  rights.  Then  she  turned  and 
went  back  into  the  bar,  and  started,  and  turned  red,  as 
she  saw  Hardy  there,  still  standing  in  the  further  corner, 
opposite  her  aunt.  He  finished  his  glass  of  ale  as  she 
came  in,  and  then  passed  out,  wishing  them  "  Good-night." 

"  Why,  aunt,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  they  were  all  gone. 
Who  was  that  sour-looking  man  ?  " 

"  He  seems  a  nice  quiet  gentleman,  my  dear,"  said  the 
old  lady  looking  up.  "  I'm  sure  he's  much  better  than 
those  ones  as  makes  so  much  racket  in  the  bar.  But 
where  have  you  been,  Patty  ?  " 

"  Oh,  to  the  commercial  room,  aunt.  Wont  you  have 
a  game  at  cribbage  ?  "  and  Patty  took  up  the  cards  and  set 
the  board  out,  the  old  lady  looking  at  her  doubtfully  all 
the  time  through  her  spectacles.  She  was  beginning  to 
wish  that  the  college  gentlemen  wouldn't  come  so  much 
to  the  house,  though  they  were  very  good  customers. 

Tom,  minus  his  handkerchief,  hurried  after  his  com- 
rades, and  caught  them  up  before  they  got  to  college. 
They  were  all  there  but  Hardy,  whose  absence  vexed  our 
hero  for  a  moment ;  he  had  hoped  that  Hardy,  now  that 
he  was  in  the  boat,  would  have  shaken  off  all  his  reserve 
towards  the  other  men,  and  blamed  him  because  he  had 
not  done  so  at  once.  There  could  be  no  reason  for  it  but 
21* 


246  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

his  own  oddness,  he  thought,  for  every  one  was  full  of  his 
praises  as  they  strolled  on  talking  of  the  race.  Miller 
praised  his  style  and  time  and  pluck.  "  Didn't  you  feel 
how  the  boat  sprung  when  I  called  on  you  at  the  Cher- 
well  ? "  he  said  to  the  captain.  "  Drysdale  was  always 
dead  beat  at  the  Gut,  and  just  a  log  in  the  boat ;  pretty 
much  like  some  of  the  rest  of  you." 

"  He's  in  such  good  training,  too,"  said  Diogenes ;  "  I 
shall  find  out  how  he  diets  himself." 

"  We've  pretty  well  done  with  that,  I  should  hope,"  said 
Number  6.  "  There  are  only  two  more  nights,  and  noth- 
ing can  touch  us  now." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Miller.  "  Mind  now, 
all  of  you,  don't  let  us  have  any  nonsense  till  the  races 
are  over  and  we  are  all  safe." 

And  so  they  talked  on  till  they  reached  college,  and 
then  dispersed  to  their  rooms  to  wash  and  dress,  and  met 
again  in  Drysdale's  rooms,  where  supper  was  awaiting 
them. 

Again  Hardy  did  not  appear.  Drysdale  sent  a  scout 
to  his  rooms,  who  brought  back  word  that  he  could  not 
find  him ;  so  Drysdale  set  to  work  to  do  the  honors  of  his 
table,  and  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  tempting  the  crew  with 
all  sorts  of  forbidden  hot  liquors,  which  he  and  the  rest 
of  the  non-professionals  imbibed  freely.  But  with  Mil- 
ler's eye  on  them,  and  the  example  of  Diogenes  and  the 
captain  before  them,  the  rest  of  the  crew  exercised  an 
abstemiousness  which  would  have  been  admirable,  had  it 
not  been  in  a  great  measure  compulsory. 

It  was  a  great  success,  this  supper  at  Drysdale's,  al- 
though knocked  up  at  an  hour's  notice.  The  triumph 
of  their  boat  had,  for  the  time,  the  effect  of  warming  up 
and  drawing  out  the  feeling  of  fellowship,  which  is  the 
«oul  of  college  life.     Though  only  a  few  men  besides  the 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  247 

crew  sat  down  to  supper,  long  before  it  was  cleared  away 
men  of  every  set  in  the  college  came  in,  in  the  highest 
spirits,  and  soon  the  room  was  crowded.  For  Drysdale 
sent  round  to  every  man  in  the  college  with  whom  he  had 
a  speaking  acquaintance,  and  they  flocked  in  and  sat 
where  they  could,  and  men  talked  and  laughed  with 
neighbors,  with  whom,  perhaps,  they  had  never  exchanged 
a  word  since  the  time  when  they  were  freshmen  together. 

Of  course,  there  were  speeches  cheered  to  the  echo,  and 
songs,  of  which  the  choruses  might  have  been  heard  in 
the  High  Street.  At  a  little  before  eleven,  nevertheless, 
despite  the  protestations  of  Drysdale,  and  the  passive  re- 
sistance of  several  of  their  number,  Miller  carried  off  the 
crew,  and  many  of  the  other  guests  went  at  the  same 
time,  leaving  their  host  and  a  small  circle  to  make  a  night 
of  it. 

Tom  went  to  his  rooms  in  high  spirits,  humming  the 
air  of  one  of  the  songs  he  had  just  heard ;  but  he  had 
scarcely  thrown  his  gown  on  a  chair  when  a  thought 
struck  him,  and  he  ran  down-stairs  again  and  across  to 
Hardy's  rooms. 

Hardy  was  sitting  with  some  cold  tea  poured  out,  but 
untasted,  before  him,  and  no  books  open  —  a  very  unusual 
thing  with  him  at  night.  But  Tom  either  did  not  or 
would  not  notice  that  there  was  any  thing  unusual. 

He  seated  himself  and  began  gossiping  away  as  fast  as 
he  could,  without  looking  much  at  the  other.  He  began 
by  recounting  all  the  complimentary  things  which  had 
been  said  by  Miller  and  others  of  Hardy's  pulling.  Then 
he  went  on  to  the  supper  party ;  what  a  jolly  evening 
they  had  had  ;  he  did  not  remember  any  thing  so  pleasant 
since  he  had  been  up,  and  he  retailed  the  speeches  and 
named  the  best  songs.  "  You  really  ought  to  have  been 
there ;  why  didn't  you  come  ?     Drysdale  sent  over  for 


248  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

you.  I'm  sure  every  one  wished  you  Lad  been  there; 
Didn't  you  get  his  message  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  feel  up  to  going,"  said  Hardy. 

"  There's  nothing  the  matter,  eh  ? "  said  Tom,  as  the 
thought  crossed  his  mind  that  perhaps  Hardy  had  hurt 
himself  in  the  race,  as  he  had  not  been  regularly  training. 

"  No,  nothing,"  answered  the  other. 

Tom  tried  to  make  play  again,  but  soon  came  to  an  end 
of  his  talk.  It  was  impossible  to  make  head  against  that 
cold  silence.  At  last  he  stopped,  looked  at  Hardy  for  a 
minute,  who  was  staring  abstractedly  at  the  sword  over  his 
mantle-piece,  and  then  said,  — 

"  There  m  something  the  matter,  though.  Don't  sit 
glowering  as  if  you  had  swallowed  a  furze  bush.  Why, 
you  haven't  been  smoking,  old  boy  ?  "  he  added,  getting 
up  and  putting  his  hand  on  the  other's  shoulder.  "  I  see 
that's  it.  Here,  take  one  of  my  weeds,  they're  mild. 
Miller  allows  two  of  these  a  day." 

"No,  thank'ee,"  said  Hardy,  rousing  himself;  "Miller 
hasn't  interfered  with  my  smoking,  and  I  will  have  a 
pipe,  for  I  think  I  want  it." 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  that  it  does  you  any  good,"  said 
Tom,  after  watching  him  fill,  and  light,  and  smoke  for 
some  minutes  without  saying  a  word.  "  Here,  I've  man- 
aged the  one  thing  I  had  at  heart.  You  are  in  the  crew, 
and  we  are  head  of  the  river,  and  everybody  is  praising 
your  rowing  up  to  the  skies,  and  saying  that  the  bump 
was  all  your  doing.  And  here  I  come  to  tell  you,  and 
not  a  word  can  I  get  out  of  you.  Aint  you  pleased  ?  Do 
you  think  we  shall  keep  our  place  ?  "  He  paused  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Hang  it  all,  I  say,"  he  added,  losing  all  patience  ; 
*»  swear  a  little  if  you  can't  do  any  thing  else.     Let's  hear 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  249 

your  voice ;  it  isn't  such  a  tender  one  that  you  need  keep 
it  all  shut  up." 

"Well,"  said  Hardy,  making  a  great  effort;  "the  real 
fact  is  I  have  something,  and  something  very  serious,  to 
say  to  you." 

"  Then  I'm  not  going  to  listen  to  it,"  broke  in  Tom  ; 
"  I'm  not  serious,  and  I  wont  be  serious,  and  no  one  shall 
make  me  serious  to-night.  It's  no  use,  so  don't  look 
glum.  But  isn't  the  ale  at 'The  Choughs '  good ?  and 
isn't  it  a  dear  little  place  ?  " 

"  It's  that  place  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about,"  said 
Hardy,  turning  to  him  at  last  with  a  deep  fetching  of  his 
breath.  "  Now,  Brown,  we  haven't  known  one  another 
long,  but  I  think  I  understand  you,  and  I  know  I  like 
you,  and  I  hope  you  like  me." 

"  Well,  well,  well,"  broke  in  Tom,  "  of  course  I  like 
you,  old  fellow,  or  else  I  shouldn't  come  poking  after  you, 
and  wasting  so  much  of  your  time,  and  sitting  on  your 
cursed  hard  chairs  in  the  middle  of  the  races.  What  has 
liking  to  do  with  <  The  Choughs/  or  *  The  Choughs '  with 
long  faces  ?  You  ought  to  have  had  another  glass  of  ale 
there." 

"  I  wish  you  had  never  had  a  glass  of  ale  there,"  said 
Hardy,  bolting  out  his  words  as  if  they  were  red-hot. 
"  Brown,  you  have  no  right  to  go  to  that  place." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Tom,  sitting  up  in  his  chair,  and  begin- 
ning to  be  nettled. 

"  You  know  why,"  said  Hardy,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  and  puffing  out  huge  volumes  of  smoke.  In  spite 
of  the  bluntness  of  the  attack,  there  was  a  yearning  look 
which  spread  over  the  rugged  brow,  and  shone  out  of  the 
deep-set  eyes  of  the  speaker,  which  almost  conquered 
Tom.     But  first  pride,  and  then  the  consciousness  of  what 


250  TOM    BEOWN    AT    OXFORD. 

was  coming  next,  which  began  to  dawn  on  him,  rose  in 
his  heart.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  meet  that  look  full, 
but  he  managed  it,  though  he  flushed  to  the  roots  of  hi3 
hair,  as  he  simply  repeated  through  his  set  teeth, "  Why  ?  " 

"  I  say  again,"  said  Hardy,  "  you  know  why." 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  Tom,  slowly ;  "  as  you 
Bay,  we  have  not  known  one  another  long  ;  long  enough 
though,  I  should  have  thought,  for  you  to  have  been  more 
charitable.  Why  am  I  not  to  go  to  '  The  Choughs,'  be- 
cause there  happens  to  be  a  pretty  barmaid  there  ?  All 
our  crew  go,  and  twenty  other  men  besides." 

"  Yes  ;  but  do  any  of  them  go  in  the  sort  of  way  you 
do  ?  Does  she  look  at  any  one  of  them  as  she  does  at 
you?" 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  " 

"  That's  not  fair,  or  true,  or  like  you,  Brown,"  said 
Hardy,  getting  up,  and  beginning  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room.  "  You  do  know  that  that  girl  doesn't  care  a 
straw  for  the  other  men  who  go  there.  You  do  know  that 
she  is  beginning  to  care  for  you." 

"  You  seem  to  know  a  great  deal  about  it,"  said  Tom  ; 
"  I  don't  believe  you  were  ever  there  before  two  days 
ago." 

"  No,  I  never  was." 

"  Then  I  think  you  needn't  be  quite  so  quick  at  finding 
fault.  If  there  were  any  thing  I  didn't  wish  you  to  see, 
do  you  think  I  should  have  taken  you  there  ?  I  tell  you 
she  is  quite  able  to  take  care  of  herself." 

"  So  I  believe,"  said  Hardy ;  "  if  she  were  a  mere 
giddy,  light  girl,  setting  her  cap  at  every  man  who  came 
in,  it  wouldn't  matter  so  much — for  her,  at  any  rate. 
She  can  take  care  of  herself  well  enough  so  far  as  the 
rest  are  concerned,  but  you  know  it  isn't  so  with  you. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  251 

You  know  il  now,  Brown;  tell  the*  truth;  any  one  with 
half  an  eye  can  see  it." 

"  You  seem  to  have  made  pretty  good  use  of  your  eyes 
in  those  two  nights,  anyhow,"  said  Tom. 

u  I  don't  mind  your  sneers,  Brown,"  said  Hardy,  as  he 
tramped  up  and  down  with  his  arms  locked  behind  him  ; 
<5  I  have  taken  on  myself  to  speak  to  you  about  this ;  I 
6hould  be  no  true  friend  if  I  shirked  it.  I'm  four  years 
older  than  you,  and  have  seen  more  of  the  world  and  of 
this  place  than  you.  You  sha'n't  go  on  with  this  folly, 
this  sin,  for  want  of  warning." 

"  So  it  seems,"  said  Tom,  doggedly.  "  Now  I  think  I've 
had  warning  enough  ;  suppose  we  drop  the  subject." 

Hardy  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  turned  on  Tom  with  a 
look  of  anger.  "  Not  yet,"  he  said,  firmly ;  "  you  know 
best  how  and  why  you  have  done  it,  but  you  know  that 
somehow  or  other  you  have  made  that  girl  like  you." 

"  Suppose  I  have,  what  then ;  whose  business  is  that 
but  mine  and  hers  ?  " 

"  It's  the  business  of  every  one  who  wont  stand  by  and 
see  the  Devil's  game  played  under  his  nose  if  he  can 
hinder  it." 

"  What  right  have  you  to  talk  about  the  Devil's  game 
to  me  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  if  you  and  I  are 
to  keep  friends,  we  had  better  drop  this  subject." 

"  If  we  are  to  keep  friends  we  must  go  to  the  bottom 
of  it.  There  are  only  two  endings  to  this  sort  of  business, 
and  you  know  it  as  well  as  I." 

"  A  right  and  a  wrong  one,  eh  ?  and  because  you  call 
me  your  friend  you  assume  that  my  end  will  be  the  wrong 
one." 

"  I  do  call  you  my  friend,  and  I  say  the  end  must  be  tho 
wrong  one  here.     There's  no  right  end.     Think  of  your 


252  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

family.  You  don't  mean  to  say  —  you  dare*  not  tell  me, 
that  you  will  marry  her  !  " 

"  I  dare  not  tell  you  ! "  said  Tom,  starting  up  in  his 
turn  ;  "  I  dare  tell  you  or  any  man  any  thing  I  please. 
But  I  wont  tell  you  or  any  man  any  thing  on  compul- 
sion." 

"  I  repeat,"  went  on  Hardy,  "  you  dare  not  say  you 
mean  to  marry  her.  You  don't  mean  it  —  and,  as  you 
don't,  to  kiss  her  as  you  did  to-night, —  " 

"  So  you  were  sneaking  behind  to  watch  me,"  burst  out 
Tom,  chafing  with  rage,  and  glad  to  find  any  handle  for  a 
quarrel.  The  two  men  stood  fronting  one  another,  the 
younger  writhing  with  the  sense  of  shame  and  outraged 
pride,  and  longing  for  a  fierce  answer,  a  blow,  any  thing 
to  give  vent  to  the  furies  which  were  tearing  him. 

But  at  the  end  of  a  few  seconds  the  elder  answered, 
calmly  and  slowly,  — 

"  I  will  not  take  those  words  from  any  man ;  you  had 
better  leave  my  rooms." 

"  If  I  do  I  shall  not  come  back  till  you  have  altered 
your  opinions." 

"  You  need  not  come  back  till  you  have  altered  yours." 

The  next  moment  Tom  was  in  the  passage  ;  the  next, 
striding  up  and  down  the  side  of  the  inner  quadrangle  in 
the  pale  moonlight. 

Poor  fellow !  it  was  no  pleasant  walking-ground  for 
him.  Is  it  worth  our  while  to  follow  him  up  and  down 
in  his  tramp?  We  have  most  of  us  walked  the  like 
marches,  I  suppose,  at  one  time  or  another  of  our  lives. 
The  memory  of  them  is  by  no  means  one  which  we  can 
dwell  on  with  pleasure.  Times  they  were  of  blinding 
and  driving  storm,  and  howling  winds,  out  of  which 
voices,  as  of  evil  spirits,  spoke  close  in  our  ears  —  taunt- 
ingly,  temptingly,  whispering   to   the   mischievous   wild 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  253 

beast  which  lurks  in  the  bottom  of  all  our  hearts,  now, 
"  Rouse  up  !  art  thou  a  man  and  darest  not  do  this  thing  ?  " 
now,  "  Rise,  kill  and  eat  —  It  is  thine,  wilt  thou  not  take 
it?  shall  the  flimsy  scruples  of  this  teacher,  or  the  sanc- 
tified cant  of  that,  bar  thy  way,  and  baulk  thee  of  thine 
own  ?  Thou  hast  strength  to  brave  them  —  to  brave  all 
things  in  earth,  or  heaven,  or  hell ;  put  out  thy  strength 
and  be  a  man  !  " 

Then  did  not  the  wild  beast  within  us  shake  itself,  and 
feel  its  power,  sweeping  away  all  the  "  Thou  shalt  not's  " 
which  the  law  wrote  up  before  us  in  letters  of  fire,  with 
the  "I  will"  of  hardy,  godless  self-assertion?  And  all 
the  while  —  which  alone  made  the  storm  really  dreadful 
to  us  —  was  there  not  the  still  small  voice  — never  to  be 
altogether  silenced  by  the  roarings  of  the  tempest  of 
passion,  by  the  evil  voices,  by  our  own  violent  attempts 
to  stifle  it — the  still  small  voice  appealing  to  the  man, 
the  true  man,  within  us,  which  is  made  in  the  image  of 
God  —  calling  on  him  to  assert  his  dominion  over  the 
wild  beast  —  to  obey,  and  conquer,  and  live  ?  Ay  !  and 
though  we  may  have  followed  the  other  voices,  have  we 
not,  while-following  them,  confessed  in  our  hearts,  that  all 
true  strength  and  nobleness  and  manliness,  was  to  be 
found  in  the  other  path  ?  Do  I  say  that  most  of  us  have 
had  to  tread  the  path,  and  fight  this  battle?  Surely, 
I  might  have  said  all  of  us;  all  at  least  who  have  passed 
the  bright  days  of  their  boyhood.  The  clear  and  keen 
intellect  no  less  than  the  dull  and  heavy ;  the  weak,  the 
cold,  the  nervous,  no  less  than  the  strong  and  passionate 
of  body.  The  arms  and  the  field  have  been  divers ;  can 
have  been  the  same,  I  suppose,  to  no  two  men,  but  the 
battle  must  have  been  the  same,  to  all.  One  here  and 
there  may  have  had  a  foretaste  of  it  as  a  boy ;  but  it  is 
the  young  man's  battle  and  not  the  boy'.2,  thank  God  for 
22 


25  4  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

\t !  That  most  hateful  and  fearful  of  all  realities,  call  it 
by  what  name  we  will  —  self,  the  natural  man,  the  old 
Adam  —  must  have  risen  up  before  each  of  us  in  early 
manhood,,  if  not  sooner,  challenging  the  true  man  within 
us,  to  which  the  spirit  of  God  is  speaking,  to  a  struggle 
for  life  or  death. 

Gird  yourself,  then,  for  the  fight,  my  young  brother, 
and  take  up  the  pledge  which  was  made  for  you  when 
you  were  a  helpless  child.  This  world,  and  all  others, 
time  and  eternity,  for  you  hang  upon  the  issue.  This 
enemy  must  be  met  and  vanquished  —  not  finally,  for  no 
man  while  on  earth,  I  suppose,  can  say  that  he  is  slain ; 
but,  when  once  known  and  recognized,  met  and  vanquished 
he  must  be,  by  God's  help,  in  this  and  that  encounter,  be- 
fore you  can  be  truly  called  a  man  ;  before  you  can  i  ally 
enjoy  any  one  even  of  this  world's  good  things. 

The  strife  was  no  light  one  for  our  hero  on  the  night  in 
his  life  at  which  we  have  arrived.  The  quiet  sky  over- 
head, the  quiet,  solemn  old  buildings,  under  the  shadow 
of  which  he  stood,  brought  him  no  peace.  He  fled  from 
them  into  his  own  rooms ;  he  lighted  his  candles  and  tried 
to  re\d,  and  force  the  whole  matter  from  his  thoughts; 
but  it  was  useless  :  back  it  came  again  and  again.  The 
more  impatient  of  its  presence  he  became,  the  less  could 
he  shake  it  off.  Some  decision  he  must  make ;  what 
should  it  be  ?  He  could  have  no  peace  till  it  was  taken. 
The  veil  had  been  drawn  aside  thoroughly,  and  once  for 
all.  Twice  he  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to  Hardy's 
rooms  to  thank  him,  confess,  and  consult ;  but  the  tide 
rolled  back  again.  As  the  truth  of  the  warning  sank 
deeper  and  deeper  into  him,  his  irritation  against  him  who 
had  uttered  it  grew  also.  He  could  not  and  would  not 
be  fair  yet.  It  is  no  easy  thing  for  any  one  of  us  to 
put  the   whole  burden  of  any  folly  or  sin  on  our  own 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  255 

backs  all  at  once.  "  If  he  had  done  it  in  any  other  way," 
thought  Tom,  "  I  might  have  thanked  him." 

Another  effort  to  shake  off  the  whole  question.  Down 
into  the  quadrangle  again ;  lights  in  Drysdale's  rooms. 
He  goes  up,  and  finds  the  remains  of  the  supper,  tank- 
ards full  of  egg-flip  and  cardinal,  and  a  party  playing  at 
vingt-un.  He  drinks  freely,  careless  of  training  or  boat- 
racing,  anxious  only  to  drown  thought.  He  sits  down  to 
play.  The  boisterous  talk  of  some,  the  eager,  keen  looks 
of  others,  jar  on  him  equally.  One  minute  he  is  absent, 
the  next  boisterous,  then  irritable,  then  moody.  A  college 
card-party  is  no  place  to-night  for  him.  He  loses  his 
money,  is  disgusted  at  last,  and  gets  to  his  own  rooms  by 
midnight ;  goes  to  bed  feverish,  dissatisfied  with  himself, 
with  all  the  world.  The  inexorable  question  pursues  him 
even  into  the  strange,  helpless  land  of  dreams,  demanding 
a  decision,  when  he  has  no  longer  power  of  will  to  choose 
either  good  or  evil. 

But  how  fared  it  all  this  time  with  the  physician  ? 
Alas!  little  better  than  with  his  patient.  His  was  the 
deeper  and  more  sensitive  nature.  Keenly  conscious  of 
his  own  position,  he  had  always  avoided  any  but  the  most 
formal  intercourse  with  the  men  in  his  college  whom  he 
would  have  liked  most  to  live  with.  This  was  the  first 
friendship  he  had  made  amongst  them,  and  he  valued  it 
accordingly  ;  and  now  it  seemed  to  lie  at  his  feet  in  hope- 
less fragments,  and  cast  down,  too,  by  his  own  hand.  Bit- 
terly he  blamed  himself  over  and  over  again,  as  he  re- 
called every  word  that  had  passed  —  not  for  having 
6poken,  —  that  he  felt  had  been  a  sacred  duty,  —  but  for 
the  harshness  and  suddenness  with  which  he  had  done  it. 

"  One  touch  of  gentleness  or  sympathy,  and  I  might 
have  won  him.  As  it  was,  how  could  he  have  met  me 
otherwise  than  lie  did  —  hard  word  for   hard  word,  hasty 


256  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

answer  for  proud  reproof?  Can  I  go  to  him  and  recall  it 
all  ?  No  ;  I  can't  trust  myself ;  I  shall  only  make  mat- 
ters worse.  Besides,  he  may  think  that  the  servitor  — 
Ah  !  am  I  there  again  ?  The  old  sore,  self,  self,  self !  I 
nurse  my  own  pride;  I  value  it  more  than  my  friend; 
and  yet  —  no,  no,  I  cannot  go,  though  I  think  I  could  die 
for  him.  The  sin,  if  sin  there  must  be,  be  on  my  head. 
Would  to  God  I  could  bear  the  sting  of  it !  But  there 
will  be  none  —  how  can  I  fear  ?  he  is  too  true,  too  manly. 
Rough  and  brutal  as  my  words  have  been,  they  have 
shown  him  the  gulf.  He  will,  he  must  escape  it.  But 
will  he  ever  come  back  to  me  ?     I  care  not,  so  he  escape." 

How  can  my  poor  words  follow  the  strong,  loving  man 
in  the  wrestlings  of  his  spirit,  till  far  on  in  the  quiet 
night  he  laid  the  whole  before  the  Lord  and  slept !  Yes, 
my  brother,  even  so,  the  old,  old  story  ;  but  start  not  at 
the  phrase,  though  you  may  never  have  found  its  mean- 
ing. He  laid  the  whole  before  the  Lord,  in  prayer,  for 
his  friend,  for  himself,  for  the  whole  world. 

And  you,  too,  if  ever  you  are  tried  as  he  was,  —  a3 
every  man  must  be  in  one  way  or  another,  —  must  learn 
to  do  the  like  with  every  burden  on  your  soul,  if  you 
would  not  have  it  hanging  round  you  heavily,  and  ever 
more  heavily,  and  dragging  you  down  lower  and  lower 
till  your  dying  day. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    STORM   RAGES. 

Hardy  was  early  in  the  chapel  the  next  morning.  It 
was  his  week  for  pricking  in.  Every  man  that  entered  — 
from  the  early  men  who  strolled  in  quietly  while  the  bell 
was  still  ringing,  to  the  hurrying,  half-dressed  loiterers 
who  crushed  in  as  the  porter  was  closing  the  doors,  and 
disturbed  the  congregation  in  the  middle  of  the  confes- 
sion,—  gave  him  a  turn  (as  the  expressive  phrase  is), 
and  every  turn  only  ended  in  disappointment.  He  put 
by  his  list  at  last,  when  the  doors  were  fairly  shut,  with  a 
sigh.  He  had  half  expected  to  see  Tom  come  into  morn- 
ing chapel  with  a  face  from  which  he  might  have  gathered 
hope  that  his  friend  had  taken  the  right  path,  and  then 
he  would  have  little  care  as  to  how  he  felt  towards  him- 
self; that  would  all  come  right  in  time.  But  Tom  did 
not  come  at  all,  and  Hardy  felt  it  was  a  bad  sign. 

They  did  not  meet  till  the  evening,  at  "the  river,  when 
the  boat  went  down  for  a  steady  pull,  and  then  Hardy 
saw  at  once  that  all  was  going  wrong.  Neither  spoke  to 
or  looked  at  the  other.  Hardy  expected  some  one  to  re- 
mark it,  but  nobody  did.  After  the  pull  they  walked  up, 
and  Tom  as  usual  led  the  way,  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, into  "  The  Choughs."  Hardy  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  then  went  in  too.  For  the.  first  time  he  stayed  till 
the  rest  of  the  crew  left.  Tom  deliberately  stayed  after 
them  all.  Hardy  turned  for  a  moment  as  he  was  leaving 
J.he  bar,  and  saw  him  settling  himself  down  in  his  chair 
22* 


"258  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

with  an  air  of  defiance,  meant  evidently  for  him.  which 
would  have  made  most  men  angry.  Hardy  was  irritated 
for  a  moment,  and  then  was  filled  with  ruth  for  the  poor 
wrong-headed  youngster  who  was  heaping  up  coals  of  fire 
for  his  own  head.  In  his  momentary  anger  Hardy  said 
to  himself,  "  Well,  I  have  done  what  I  can ;  now  he  must 
go  his  own  way ; "  but  such  a  thought  was  soon  kicked  in 
disgrace  from  his  noble  and  well-disciplined  mind.  He 
resolved,  that,  let  it  cost  what  it  might  in  the  shape  of 
loss  of  time  and  trial  of  temper,  he  would  leave  no  stone 
unturned,  and  spare  no  pains,  to -deliver  his  friend  of  yes- 
terday from  the  slough  into  which  he  was  plunging.  How 
he  might  best  work  for  this  end  occupied  his  thoughts  as 
he  walked  towards  college. 

Tom  sat  on  at  "The  Choughs,"  glorifying  himself  in  the 
thought  that  now,  ajt  any  rate,  he  had  shown  Hardy  that 
he  wasn't  to  be  dragooned  into  doing  or  not  doing  any 
thing.  He  had  had  a  bad  time  of  it  all  day,  and  his  good 
angel  had  fought  hard  for  victory ;  but  self-will  was  too 
strong  for  the  time.  When  he  stayed  behind  the  rest,  it 
was  more  out  of  bravado  than  from  any  defined  purpose 
of  pursuing  what  he  tried  to  persuade  himself  was  an  in- 
nocent flirtation.  When  he  left  the  house  some  hours  af- 
terwards he  was  deeper  in  the  toils  than  ever,  and  clouds 
were  gathering  over  his  heart.  From  that  time  he  was 
an  altered  man,  and  altering  as  rapidly  for  the  worse  in 
body  as  in  mind.  Hardy  saw  the  change  in  both,  and 
groaned  over  it  in  secret.  Miller's  quick  eye  detected  the 
bodily  change.  After  the  next  race  he  drew  Tom  aside, 
and  said, — 

"Why,  Brown,  what's  the  matter?  What  have  you 
been  about  ?  You're  breaking  down.  Hold  on,  man ; 
there's  only  one  more  night." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Tom,  proudly,  "  I  shall  last  it  out." 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  250 

And  in  the  last  race  he  did  his  work  again,  though  it 
cost  him  more  than  all  the  preceding  ones  put  together; 
and  when  he  got  out  of  the  boat  he  could  scarcely  walk 
or  see.  He  felt  a  fierce  kind  of  joy  in  his  own  distress, 
and  wished  that  there  were  more  races  to  come.  But 
Miller,  as  he  walked  up  arm  in  arm  with  the  captain,  took 
a  different  view  of  the  subject. 

"  Well,  it's  all  right,  you  see,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but 
we're  not  a  boat's  length  better  than  Oriel  over  the  course 
after  all.  How  was  it  we  bumped  them  ?  If  any  thing, 
they  drew  a  little  on  us  to-night." 

"  Ay,  half  a  boat's  length,  I  should  say,"  answered 
Miller.  "  I'm  uncommonly  glad  it's  over ;  Brown  is  going 
all  to  pieces ;  he  wouldn't  stand  another  race,  and  we 
haven't  a  man  to  put  in  his  place." 

"  It's  odd,  too,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  I  put  him  down  as 
a  laster,  and  he  has  trained  well.  Perhaps  he  has  over- 
done it  a  little.     However,  it  don't  matter  now." 

So  the  racei  were  over ;  and  that  night  a  great  supper 
was  held  in  St  Ambrose  Hall,  to  which  were  bidden,  and 
came,  the  crews  of  all  the  boats  from  Exeter  upwards. 
The  de?n,  with  many  misgivings  and  cautions,  had  al- 
lowed the  hall  to  be  used  on  pressure  from  Miller  and 
Jervis.  Miller  was  a  bachelor  and  had  taken  a  good  de- 
gree, and  Jervis  bore  a  high  character  and  was  expected 
to  do  well  in  the  schools.  So  the  poor  dean  gave  in  to 
them,  extracting  many  promises  in  exchange  for  his  per- 
mission :  and  flitted  uneasily  about  all  the  evening  in  his 
cap  and  gown,  instead  of  working  on  at  his  edition  of  the 
Fathers,  which  occupied  every  minute  of  his  leisure,  and 
was  making  an  old  man  of  him  before  his  time. 

From  eight  to  eleven  the  fine  old  pointed  windows  of  St. 
Ambrose  Hall  blazed  with  light,  and  the  choruses  of  songs, 
«n  1  the  cheers,  which  followed  the  short  intervals  of  si 


200  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

lenee  which  the  speeches  made,  rang  out  over  the  quad* 
rangles,  and  made  the  poor  dean  amble  about  in  a  state 
of  nervous  bewilderment.  Inside  there  was  hearty  feast- 
ing, such  as  had  not  been  seen  there,  for  aught  I  know, 
since  the  day  when  the  king  came  back  to  "  enjoy  his 
own  again."  The  one  old  cup,  relic  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
which  had  survived  the  civil  wars,  —  St.  Ambrose's  had 
been  a  right  loyal  college,  and  the  plate  had  gone  without 
a  murmur  into  Charles  the  First's  war-chest,  —  went 
round  and  round ;  and  rival  crews  pledged  one  another 
out  of  it,  and  the  massive  tankards  of  a  later  day,  in  all 
good  faith  and  good  fellowship.  Mailed  knights,  grave 
bishops,  royal  persons  of  either  sex,  and  "  other  our  bene- 
factors," looked  down  on  the  scene  from  their  heavy-gilded 
frames,  and,  let  us  hope,  not  unkindly.  All  passed  off 
well  and  quietly ;  the  out-college  men  were  gone,  the 
lights  were  out,  and  the  butler  had  locked  the  hall-door 
by  a  quarter  past  eleven,  and  the  dean  returned  in  peace 
to  his  own  rooms. 

Had  Tom  been  told  a  week  before  that  he  would  not 
have  enjoyed  that  night,  that  it  would  not  have  been 
amongst  the  happiest  and  proudest  of  his  life,  he  would 
have  set  his  informer  down  as  a  madman.  As  it  was,  he 
never  once  rose  to  the  spirit  of  the  feast,  and  wished  it 
all  over  a  dozen  times.  He  deserved  not  to  enjoy  it ; 
but  not  so  Hardy,  who  was,  nevertheless,  almost  as  much 
out  of  tune  as  Tom  ;  though  the  University  coxswain  had 
singled  him  out,  named  him  in  his  speech,  sat  by  him  and 
talked  to  him  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  asked  him 
to  go  to  the  Henley  and  Thames  regattas  in  the  Oxford 
crew. 

The  next  evening,  as  usual,  Tom  found  himself  at 
"  The  Choughs  "  with  a  half  a  dozen  others.  Patty  wag 
in  the  bar  by  herself,  looking  prettier  than  ever.     One  by 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFOKD.  2C1 

one  the  rest  of  the  men  dropped  off,  the  last  saying,  "  Are 
you  coming,  Brown  ?"  and  being  answered  in  the  negative. 

He  sat  still,  watching  Patty  as  she  flitted  about,  wash- 
ing up  the  ale  glasses  and  putting  them  on  their  shelves, 
and  getting  out  her  work-basket ;  and  then  she  came  and 
sat  down  in  her  aunt's  chair  opposite  him,  and  began 
stitching  away  demurely  at  an  apron  she  was  making. 
Then  he  broke  silence,  — 

"  Where's  your  aunt  to-night,  Patty  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  has  gone  away  for  a  few  days  for  a  visit  to 
some  friends." 

"You  and  I  will  keep  house,  then,  together;  you  shall 
teach  me  all  the  tricks  of  the  trade.  I  shall  make  a  fa- 
mous barman,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  You  must  learn  to  behave  better,  then.  But  I  prom- 
ised aunt  to  shut  up  at  nine;  so  you  must  go  when  it 
strikes.'    Now  promise  me  you  will  go." 

"  Go  at  nine  !  what,  in  half  an  hour  ?  the  first  evening 
I  have  ever  had  a  chance  of  spending  alone  with  you  ;  do 
you  think  it  likely  ?  "  and  he  looked  into  her  eyes.  She 
turned  away  with  a  slight  shiver,  and  a  deep  blush. 

His  nervous  system  had  been  so  unusually  excited  in 
the  last  few  days,  that  he  seemed  to  know  every  thing 
that  was  passing  in  her  mind.  He  took  her  hand.  "Why, 
Patty,  you're  not  afraid  of  me,  surely?"  he  said,  gently. 

"No,  not  when  you're  like  you  are  now.  But  you 
frightened  me  just  this  minute.  I  never  saw  you  look  so 
before.     Has  any  thing  happened  you  ?  " 

"  No,  nothing.  Now,  then,  we're  going  to  have  a  jolly 
evening,  and  play  Darby  and  Joan  together,"  he  said, 
turning  away,  and  going  to  the  bar  window ;  "  shall  I 
shut  up,  Patty?" 

"  No,  it  isn't  nine  yet ;  somebody  may  come  in." 

"  That's  just  why  I  mean  to  put  the  shutters  up ;  I 
dr^n't  want  anybody." 


262  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

"  Ye?,  but  I  do  though.  Now,  I  declare,  Mr.  Brown, 
if  you  go  on  shutting  up,  I'll  run  into  the  kitchen  and  sit 
with  Dick." 

"  "Why  will  you  call  me  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  should  I  call  you  ?  " 

"  Tom,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  I  never !  one  would  think  you  was  my  brother," 
said  Patty,  looking  up  with  a  pretty  pertness  which  she 
had  a  most  bewitching  way  of  putting  on.  Tom's  re- 
joinder, and  the  little  squabble  which  they  had  afterwards 
about  where  her  work-table  should  stand,  and  other  such 
matters  may  be  passed  over.  At  last  he  was  brought  to 
reason,  and  to  anchor  opposite  his  enchantress,  the  work- 
table  between  them ;  and  he  sat  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
and  watching  her,  as  she  stitched  away  without  ever  lift- 
ing her  eyes.  He  was  in  no  hurry  to  break  the  silence. 
The  position  was  particularly  fascinating  to  him,  for  he 
had  scarcely  ever  yet  had  a  good  look  at  her  before, 
without  fear  of  attracting  attention,  or  being  interrupted. 
At  last  he  roused  himself. 

"  Any  of  our  men  been  here  to-day,  Patty  ?  "  he  said, 
sitting  up. 

"  There  now,  I've  won,"  she  laughed ;  "  I  said  to  my- 
self, I  wouldn't  speak  first,  and  I  haven't.  What  a  time 
you  were !  I  thought  you  would  never  begin." 

"You're  a  little  goose!  Now  I  begin  then;  who've 
been  here  to-day  ?  " 

"  Of  your  college?  let  me  see;"  and  she  looked  away 
across  to  the  bar  window,  pricking  her  needle  into  the 
table.  "  There  was  Mr.  Drysdale  and  some  others  called 
for  a  glass  of  ale  as  they  passed,  going  out  driving.  Then 
there  was  Mr.  Smith  and  them  from  the  boats  about  four: 
and  that  ugly  one  —  I  can't  mind  his  name  —  " 

"  What,  Hardy  ?  " 


TOM   BROTVN   AT    OXFORD.  263 

u  Yes,  that's  it ;  he  was  here  about  half-past  six,  and —  * 

"  What,  Hardy  here  after  hall  ?  "  interrupted  Tom,  ut- 
terly astonished. 

"  Yes,  after  your  dinner  up  at  college.  He's  been  here 
two  or  three  times  lately." 

"  The  deuce  he  has." 

"  Yes,  and  he  talks  so  pleasant  to  aunt  too.  I*m  sure 
he  is  a  very  nice  gentleman,  after  all.  "He  sat  and  talked 
to-night  for  half  an  hour,  I  should  think." 

"  What  did  he  talk  about  ?  "  said  Tom,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Oh,  he  asked  me  whether  I  had  a  mother,  and  where 
I  came  from,  and  all  about  my  bringing  up,  and  made  me 
feel  quite  pleasant.  He  is  so  nice  and  quiet  and  respect- 
ful, not  like  most  of  you.  I'm  going  to  like  him  very 
much,  as  you  told  me." 

"  I  don't  tell  you  so  now." 

"  But  you  did  say  he  was  your  great  friend." 

"  Well,  he  isn't  that  now." 

"  What,  have  you  quarrelled  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Dear,  dear ;  how  odd  you  gentlemen  are  ! " 

"  Why,  it  isn't  a  very  odd  thing  for  men  to  quarrel ; 
is  it?" 

"  No,  not  in  the  public  room.  They're  always  quar- 
relling there,  over  their  drink  and  the  bagatelle-board ; 
and  Dick  has  to  turn  them  out.  But  gentlemen  ought  to 
know  better." 

"  They  don't,  you  see,  Patty." 

"  But  what  did  you  quarrel  about  ?  " 

"  Guess." 

"  How  can  I  guess?     What  was  it  about  ?  " 

"  About  you." 

"  About  me ! "  she  said,  looking  up  from  her  work  in 
wonder.     "  How  could  you  quarrel  about  me  ?  " 


264  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  ;  lie  said  I  had  no  right  to  come 
here.     You  wont  like  him   after  that,  will  you,  Patty  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Patty,  going  on  with  hei 
work  and  looking  troubled. 

They  sat  still  for  some  minutes.  Evil  thoughts  crowded 
into  Tom's  head.  He  was  in  the  humor  for  thinking  evil 
thoughts,  and,  putting  the  worst  construction  on  Hardy's 
visits,  fancied  he  came  there  as  his  rival.  He  did  not 
trust  himself  to  speak  till  he  had  mastered  his  precious 
discovery,  and  put  it  away  in  the  back  of  his  heart,  and 
weighted  it  down  there  with  a  good  covering  of  hatred 
and  revenge,  to  be  brought  out  as  occasion  should  serve. 
He  was  plunging  down  rapidly  enough  now  •>  but  he  had 
new  motives  for  making  the  most  of  his  time,  and  never 
played  his  cards  better,  or  made  more  progress.  When 
a  man  sits  down  to  such  a  game,  the  Devil  will  take  good 
care  that  he  sha'n't  want  cunning  or  strength.  It  was  ten 
o'clock  instead  of  nine  before  he  left,  which  he  did  with  a 
feeling  of  triumph.  Poor  Patty  remained  behind,  and 
shut  up  the  bar,  while  Dick  was  locking  the  front  door,  her 
heart  in  a  flutter,  and  her  hands  shaking.  She  hardly 
knew  whether  to  laugh  or  cry ;  she  felt  the  change  which 
had  come  over  him,  and  was  half  fascinated  and  half  re- 
pelled by  it. 

Tom  walked  quickly  back  to  college,  in  a  mood  which 
I  do  not  care  to  describe.  The  only  one  of  his  thoughts 
which  my  readers  may  be  troubled  with,  put  itself  into 
some  such  words  as  these  in  his  head :  —  "  So,  it's  Abing- 
don fair  next  Thursday,  and  she  has  half  promised  to  go 
with  me.  I  know  I  can  make  it  certain.  Who'll  be 
going  besides  ?  Drysdale,  I'll  be  bound.  I'll  go  and  see 
him." 

On  entering  college,  he  went  straight  to  Drysdale's 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  265 

rooms,  and  drank  deeply,  and  played  high  into  th3  short 
hours  of  the  night,  but  found  no  opportunity  of  speaking. 

Deeper  and  deeper  yet  for  the  next  few  days.  Down- 
wards and  ever  faster  downwards  he  plunged,  the  light 
getting  fainter  and  ever  fainter  above  his  head.  Little 
good  can  come  of  dwelling  on  those  days.  He  left  off 
pulling,  shunned  his  old  friends,  and  lived  with  the  very 
worst  men  he  knew  in  college,  wTho  were  ready  enough  to 
let  him  share  all  their  brutal  orgies. 

Drysdale,  who  was  often  present,  wondered  at  the 
change,  which  he  saw  plainly  enough.  He  was  sorry  for 
It  in  his  way,  but  it  was  no  business  of  his.  He  began  to 
think  that  Brown  was  a  good  enough  fellow  before,  but 
would  make  a  devilish  disagreeable  one  if  he  was  going 
to  turn  fast  man. 

At  "  The  Choughs "  all  went  on  as  if  the  downward 
path  knew  how  to  make ,  itself  smooth.  Now  that  the 
races  were  over,  and  so  many  other  attractions  going  on 
in  Oxford,  very  few  men  came  in  to  interfere  with  him. 
He  was  scarcely  ever  away  from  Patty's  side  in  the  even- 
ings while  her  aunt  was  absent,  and  gained  more  and  more 
power  over  her.  He  might  have  had  some  compassion,  but 
that  he  was  spurred  on  by  hearing  how  Hardy  haunted 
the  place  now,  at  times  when  he  could  not  be  there.  He 
felt  that  there  was  an  influence  struggling  with  his  in  the 
girl's  mind ;  he  laid  it  to  Hardy's  door,  and  imputed  it 
still,  more  and  more,  to  motives  as  base  as  his  own.  But 
Abingdon  fair  was  coming  on  Thursday.  When  he  left 
f  The  Choughs "  on  Tuesday  night,  he  had  extracted  a 
promise  from  Patty  to  accompany  him  there,  and  had  ar- 
ranged their  place  of  meeting. 

All  that  remained  to  be  done  was  to  see  if  Drysdale 
was  going.  Somehow  he  felt  a  disinclination  to  go  alone 
23 


266  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

with  Patty.  Drysdale  was  the  only  man  of  those  he  was 
now  living  with  to  whom  he  felt  the  least  attraction.  In 
a  vague  way  he  clung  to  him  ;  and  though  he  never  faced 
the  thought  of  what  he  was  about  fairly,  yet  it  passed 
through  his  mind  that  even  in  Drysdale's  company  he 
would  be  safer  than  if  alone.  It  was  all  pitiless',  blind, 
wild  work,  without  rudder  or  compass  ;  the  wish  that 
nothing  very  bad  might  come  out  of  it  all,  however,  came 
up  in  spite  of  him  now  and  again,  and  he  looked  to  Drys- 
dale, and  longed  to  become  even  as  he. 

Drysdale  was  going.  He  was  very  reserved  on  the 
subject,  but  at  last  confessed  that  he  was  not  going  alone. 
Tom  persisted.  Drysdale  was  too  lazy  and  careless  to 
keep  any  thing  from  a  man  who  was  bent  on  knowing  it. 
In  the  end,  it  was  arranged  that  he  should  drive  Tom  out 
the  next  afternoon.  He  did  so.  They  stopped  at  a  small 
public  house  some  two  miles  out  of  Oxford.  The  cart 
was  put  up,  and  after  carefully  scanning  the  neighbor- 
hood they  walked  quickly  to  the  door  of  a  pretty  retired 
cottage..    As  they  entered,  Drysdale  said, — 

"  By  Jove,  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  your  friend 
Hardy  at  that  turn.', 

"  Friend  !  he's  no  friend  of  mine." 

"  But  didn't  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  No." 

They  reached  college  again  between  ten  and  eleven, 
and  parted,  each  to  his  own  rooms. 

To  his  surprise,  Tom  found  a  candle  burning  on  I113 
table.  Round  the  candle  was  tied  a  piece  of  string,  at 
the  end  of  which  hung  a  note.  Whoever  had  put  it 
there  had  clearly  been  anxious  that  he  should  in  no  case 
miss  it  when  he  came  in.  He  took  it  up  and  saw  that  it 
was  in  Hardy's  hand.  He  paused,  and  trembled  as  he 
Btood.     Then  with  an  effort  he  broke  the  seal  and  read  — 


TO?.I   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  267 

aI  must  speak  once  more.  To-morrow  it  may  le  too 
late.  If  you  go  to  Abingdon  fair  with  her  in  the  company 
of  Drysdale  and  his  mistress,  or,  I  believe,  in  any  com- 
pany, you  will  return  a  scoundrel,  and  she  — ;  in  the  name 
of  the  honor  of  your  mother  and  sister,  in  the  name  of  God, 
I  warn  you.  May  He  help  you  through  it.  John 
Hardy." 

Here  we  will  drop  the  curtain  for  the  next  hour.  At 
the  end  of  that  time,  Tom  staggered  out  of  his  room, 
down  the  staircase,  across  the  quadrangle,  up  Drysdale's 
staircase.  He  paused  at  the  door  to  gather  some  strength, 
ran  his  hands  through  his  hair,  and  arranged  his  coat ; 
notwithstanding,  when  he  entered,  Drysdale  started  to  his 
feet,  upsetting  Jack  from  his  comfortable  coil  on  the  sofa. 

"  Why,  Brown,  you're  ill ;  have  some  brandy,"  he  caid, 
and  went  to  his  cupboard  for  the  bottle. 

Tom  leant  his  arm  on  the  fireplace  ;  his  head  on  it. 
The  other  hand  hung  down  by  his  sideband  Jack  licked  it, 
and  he  loved  the  dog  as  he  felt  the  caress.  Then  Drysdale 
came  to  his  side  with  a  glass  of  brandy,  which  he  took 
and  tossed  off  as  though  it  had  been  water.  "  Thank 
you,"  he  said,  and  as  Drysdale  went  back  with  the  bottle, 
reached  a  large  arm-chair  and  sat  himself  down  in  it. 

"  Drysdale,  I  sha'n't  go  with  you  to  Abingdon  fair  to- 
morrow." 

"  Hullo !  what,  has  the  lovely  Patty  thrown  you  over  ?  " 
said  Drysdale,  turning  from  the  cupboard,  and  resuming 
his  lounge  on  the  sofa. 

"  No : "  he  sank  back  into  the  chair,  on  the  xa*ms  cf 
which  his  elbows  rested,  and  put  his  hands  up  before  hio 
face,  pressing  them  against  his  burning  temples.  Drys- 
dale  looked  at  him  hard,  but  said  nothing ;  and  there  was 
a  dead  silence  of  a  minute  or  so,  broken  only  by  Tom's 
heavy  breathing,  which  he  was  laboring  in  vain  to  control 


2G3  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORE. 

"  No,"  he  repeated  at  last,  and  the  remaining  words 
came  out  slowly  as  if  they  were  trying  to  steady  them- 
selves, "but,  by  God,  Drysdale, I  can't  take  her  with  you, 
and  that  —  "a  dead  pause. 

"  The  young  lady  you  met  to-night,  eh?  " 

Tom  nodded,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Well,  old  fellow,"  said  Drysdale,  "  now  you've  made 
up  yDur  mind,  I  tell  you,  I'm  devilish  glad  of  it!  I'm  no 
saint,  as  you  know,  but  I  think  it  would  have  been  a 
d d  shume  if  you  had  taken  her  with  us." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  and  pressed  his  fingers  tighter 
on  his  forehead ;  and  he  did  feel  thankful  for  the  words, 
though,  coming  from  the  man  they  did,  they  went  into 
him  like  coals  of  fire. 

Again  there  was  a  long  pause,  Tom  sitting  as  before. 
Drysdale  got  up,  and  strolled  up  and  down  his  room,  with 
his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  silk-lined  lounging  coat, 
taking  at  each  turn  a  steady  look  at  the  other.  Pres- 
ently, he  stopped,  and  took  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth. 
"  I  say,  Brown,"  he  said,  after  another  minute's  contempla- 
tion of  the  figure  before  him,  which  bore  such  an  unmis- 
takable impress  of  wretchedness,  that  it  made  him  quite 
uncomfortable,  "  why  don't  you  cut  that  concern  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"Why  that '  Choughs'  business  —  I'll  be  hanged  if  it 
wont  kill  you,  or  make  a  devil  of  you  before  long,  if  you 
go  on  with  it." 

"  It's  not  far  from  that  now." 

"  So  I  see  —  and  I'll  tell  you  what,  you're  not  the  sort 
of  fellow  to  go  in  for  this  kind  of  thing.  You'd  better 
leave  it  to  cold-blooded  brutes,  like  some  we  know  —  I 
needn't  mention  names." 

"I'm  awfully  wretched,  Drysdale;  I've  been  a  brute 
myself  to  you  and  e  7erybody  of  late." 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  269 

"  Well,  I  own  I  don't  like  the  new  side  of  you.  Now 
make  up  your  mind  to  cut  the  whole  concern,  old  fellow/' 
he  said,  coming  up  good-naturedly,  and  putting  his  hand 
on  Tom's  shoulder ;  "  it's  hard  to  do,  I  dare  say,  but  you 
had  better  make  the  plunge  and  get  it  over.  There's 
wickedness  enough  going  about  without  your  helping  to 
shove  another  one  into  it." 

Tom  groaned  as  he  listened,  but  he  felt  that  the  man 
was  trying  to  help  him  in  his  own  way,  and  according  to 
his  light,  as  Drysdale  went  on  expounding  his  own  curi- 
ous code  of  morality.  When  it  was  ended  he  shook 
Diysdale's  hand,  and,  wishing  him  good-night,  went  back 
to  his  own  rooms.  The  first  step  upwards  towards  the 
light  had  been  made,  for  he  felt  thoroughly  humbled  be- 
fore the  man  on  whom  he  had  expended  in  his  own  mind 
so  much  patronizing  pity  for  the  last  half-year  —  whom 
he  had  been  fancying  he  was  influencing  for  good. 

During  the  long  hours  of  the  night  the  scenes  of  the 
last  few  hours,  of  the  last  few  days,  came  back  to  him 
and  burnt  into  his  soul.  The  gulf  yawned  before  him 
now  plain  enough,  open  at  his  feet  —  black,  ghastly.  He 
shuddered  at  it,  wondered  if  he  should  even  yet  fall  in, 
felt  wildly  about  for  strength  to  stand  firm,  to  retrace  his 
steps ;  but  found  it  not.  He  found  not  yet  the  strength 
he  was  in  search  of,  but  in  the  gray  morning  he  wrote  a 
short  note. 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  take  you  to  Abingdon  fair  to- 
day. You  will  not  see  me  perhaps  for  some  days.  I  am 
not  well.  I  am  very  sorry.  Don't  think  that  I  am 
changed.  Don't  be  unhappy,  or  I  don't  know  what  I  may 
do."     There  was  no  address  and  no  signature  to  the  note. 

When  the  gates  opened  he  hurried  out  of  the  college, 
and,  having  left  it  and  a  shilling  with  Dick  (whom  he 
23* 


270  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

found  clearing  the  yard,  and  much  astonished  at  his  ap- 
pearance, and  who  promised  to  deliver  it  to  Patty  with 
his  own  hands  before  eight  o'clock),  he  got  back  again  to 
his  own  rooms,  went  to  bed,  worn  out  in  mind  and  body, 
and  slept  till  midday. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


NEW    GROUND, 


Ml  readers  have  now  been  steadily  at  Oxford  for  six 
months  without  moving.  Most  people  find  such  a  spell  of 
the  place,  without  a  change,  quite  as  much  as  they  care  to 
take ;  moreover  it  may  do  our  hero  good  to  let  him  alone  for 
a  number,  that  he  may  have  time  to  look  steadily  into  the 
pit  which  he  has  been  so  near  falling  into,  which  is  still 
yawning  awkwardly  in  his  path ;  moreover,  the  exigencies 
of  a  story-teller  must  lead  him  away  from  home  now  and 
then.  Like  the  rest  of  us,  his  family  must  have  change  of 
air,  or  he  has  to  go  off  to  see  a  friend  properly  married, 
or  a  connection  buried ;  to  wear  white  or  black  gloves  with 
or  for  some  one,  carrying  such  sympathy  as  he  can  with 
him,  that  so  he  may  come  back  from  every  journey,  how- 
ever short,  with  a  wider  horizon.  Yes;  to  come  back 
home  after  every  stage  of  life's  journeying  with  a  wider 
horizon,  more  in  sympathy  with  men  and  nature,  know- 
ing ever  more  of  the  righteous  and  eternal  laws  which 
govern  them,  and  of  the  righteous  and  loving  will  which 
is  above  all,  and  around -all,  and  beneath  all,  this  must  be 
the  end  and  aim  of  all  of  us,  or  we  shall  be  wandering 
about  blindfold,  and  spending  time  and  labor  and  journey- 
money  on  that  which  profiteth  nothing.  So  now  I  must 
ask  my  readers  to  forget  the  old  buildings  and  quadran- 
gles of  the  fairest  of  England's  cities,  the  caps  and  the 
gowns,  the  reading  and  rowing,  for  a  short  space,  and  take 
a  flight  with  me  to  other  scenes  and  pastures  new. 

The  nights  are  pleasant  in  May,  short  and  pleasant  for 


272  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

travel.  "We  will  leave  the  ancient  city  asleep,  and  do  our 
flight  in  the  night  to  save  time.  Trust  yourselves,  then,  to 
the  story-teller's  aerial  machine.  It  is  but  a  rough  affair, 
I  own  —  rough  and  humble,  unfitted  for  high  or  great  flights, 
with  no  gilded  panels  cr  dainty  cushions,  or  C-springs,— 
not  that  we  shall  care  about  springs,  by  the  way,  until  we 
alight  on  terra  firma  again, —  still,  there  is  much  to  be 
learned  in  a  third-class  carriage  if  we  will  only  not  look 
for  the  cushions  and  line  panels  and  forty  miles  an  hour 
travelling  in  it,  and  will  not  be  shocked  at  our  fellow-pas- 
sengers for  being  weak  in  their  h's  and  smelling  of  fustian. 
Mount  in  it,  then,  you  who  will  after  this  warning ;  the 
fares  are  holiday  fares,  the  tickets  return  tickets.  Take 
with  you  nothing  but  the  poet's  luggage  — 

"  A  smile  for  Hope,  a  tear  for  Pain, 

A  breath  to  swell  the  voice  of  Prayer." 

and  may  you  hafve  a  pleasant  journey,  for  it  is  time  that 
the  stoker  should  be  looking  to  his  going  gear ! 

So  now  we  rise  slowly  in  the  moonlight  from  St.  Am- 
brose's quadrangle,  and,  when  we  are  clear  of  the  clock- 
tower,  steer  away  southwards,  over  Oxford  city  and  all  its 
sleeping  wisdom  and  folly,  over  street  and  past  spire,  over 
Christ  Church  and  the  canons'  houses,  and  the  fountain  in 
Tom  quad ;  over  St.  Aldate's  and  the  river,  along  which 
the  moonbeams  lie  in  a  pathway  of  twinkling  silver,  over 
the  railway  sheds  —  no,  there  was  then  no  railway,  but 
only  the  quiet  fields  and  footpaths  of  Hincksey  hamlet. 
"Well,  no  matter ;  at  any  rate,  the  hills  beyond  and  Bagley 
Wood  were  there  then  as  now :  and  over  hills  and  wood 
we  rise,  catching  the  purr  of  the  night-jar,  the  trill  of  the 
nightingale,  and  the  first  crow  of  the  earliest  cock  pheasant, 
as  he  stretchesdiis  jewelled  wings,  conscious  of  his  strength 
and  his  beauty,  heedless  of  the  fellows  of  St.  John's,  who 
slumber  within  sight  of  his  perch,  on  whose  hospitablo 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  273 

board  lie  shall  one  clay  lie  prone  on  Lis  back,  with  fair 
larded  breast  turned  upwards  for  the  carving  knife,  having 
crowed  his  last  crow.  He  knows  it  not ;  what  matters  it 
to  him  ?  If  he  knew  it,  could  a  Bagley  Woodcock  pheas- 
ant desire  a  better  ending  ? 

"We  pass  over  the  vale  beyond ;  hall  and  hamlet,  church 
and  meadow,  and  copse  folded  in  mist  and  shadow  below 
us,  each  hamlet  holding  in  its  bosom  the  materials  of 
threo-volumed  novels  by  the  dozen,  if  we  could  only  pull 
off  the  roofs  of  the  houses  and  look  steadily  into  the  inte- 
riors ;  but  our  destination  is  further  yet.  The  faint  white 
streak  behind  the  distant  Chilterns  reminds  us  that  we 
have  no  time  for  gossip  by  the  way ;  May  nights  are  short, 
and  the  sun  will  be  up  by  four.  No  matter  ;  our  journey 
will  now  be  soon  over,  for  the  broad  vale  is  crossed,  and 
the  chalk  hills  and  downs  beyond.  Larks  quiver  up  by 
us,  "  higher,  ever  higher,"  hastening  up  to  get  a  first 
glimpse  of  the  coming  monarch,  careless  of  food,  flooding 
the  fresh  air  with  song.  Steady  plodding  rooks  labor 
along  below  us,  and  lively  starlings  rush  by  on  the  look- 
out for  the  early  worm ;  lark  and  swallow,  rook  and  star- 
ling, each  on  his  appointed  round.  The  sun  arises,  and 
they  get  them  to  it ;  he  is  up  now,  and  these  breezy  up- 
lancj*  ever  which  we  hang  are  swimming  in  the  light  of 
horizontal  rays,  though  the  shadows  and  mists  still  lie  on 
the  wooded  dells  which  slope  away  southwards. 

Here  let  us  bring  to,  over  the  village  of  Englebourn, 
and  try  to  get  acquainted  with  the  outside  of  the  place 
before  the  good  folk  are  about  aad  we  have  to  go  down 
among  them,  and  their  sayings  and  doings. 

The  village  lies  on  the  southern  slopes  of  the  Berkshire 
hills,  on  the  opposite  side  to  that  under  which  our  hero 
was  born.  Another  soil  altogether  is  here,  we  remark  in 
the  first  place.     This  is  nobu  chalk,  this  high  knoll  which 


274  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

rises  above  —  one  may  almost  say  hangs  over — the  vil« 
lage,  crowned  with  Scotch  firs,  its  sides  tufted  with  gorse 
and  heather.  It  is  the  Hawk's  Lynch,  the  favorite  resort 
of  Englebourn  folk,  who  come  up  —  for  the  view,  for  the 
air,  because  their  fathers  and  mothers  came  up  before 
them ;  because  they  came  up  themselves  as  children  — 
from  an  instinct  which  moves  them  all  in  leisure  hours 
and  Sunday  evenings,  when  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds 
sing,  whether  they  care  for  view  or  air  or  not.  Some- 
thing guides  all  their  feet  hitherward ;  the  children,  to 
play  hide-and-seek  and  look  for  nests  in  the  gorse-bushes ; 
young  men  and  maidens,  to  saunter  and  look  and  talk,  as 
they  will  till  the  world's  end,  —  or  as  long,  at  any  rate,  as 
the  Hawk's  Lynch  and  Englebourn  last, —  and  to  cut  their 
initials,  enclosed  in  a  true  lover's  knot,  on  the  short  rabbit's 
turf;  steady  married  couples,  to  plod  along  together  con- 
sulting on  hard  times  and  growing  families;  even  old 
tottering  men,  who  love  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  firs,  with 
chins  leaning  on  their  sticks,  prattling  of  days  long  past 
to  any  one  who  will  listen,  or  looking  silently  with  dim 
eyes  into  the  summer  air,  feeling,  perhaps,  in  their  spirits 
after  a  wider,  and  more  peaceful  view  which  will  soon 
open  for  them.  A  common  knoll,  open  to  all,  up  in  the 
silent  air,  well  away  from  every-day  Englebourn  life,  with 
the  Hampshire  range  and  the  distant  Beacon  Hill  lying 
soft  on  the  horizon,  and  nothing  higher  between  you  and 
the  southern  sea,  what  a  blessing  the  Hawk's  Lynch  is 
to  the  village  folk,  one  and  all!  May  Heaven  and  a 
thankless  soil  long  preserve  it  and  them  from  an  enclosure 
under  the  Act ! 

There  is  much  temptation  lying  about,  though,  for  the 
enclosers  of  the  world.  The  rough  common  land,  you  see, 
stretches  over  the  whole  of  the  knoll,  and  down  to  its  base, 
and  away  along  the  hills  behind,  of  which  the  Hawk's 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  275 

Lynch  is  an  outlying  ppur.  Rough  common  land,  broken 
only  by  pine  woods  of  a  few  acres  each  in  extent,  an  oc- 
casional woodman's  or  squatter's  cottage  and  little  patch 
of  attempted  garden.  But  immediately  below,  and  on 
each  flank  of  the  .spur,  and  half-way  up  the  slopes,  come 
small  farm  enclosures  breaking  here  and  there  the  belt  of 
woodlands,  which  generally  lies  between  the  rough,  wild 
upland  and  the  cultivated  country  below.  As  you  stand 
on  the  knoll  you  can  see  the  common  land  just  below  you 
at  its  foot  narrow  into  a  mere  road,  with  a  border  of  waste 
on  each  side,  which  runs  into  Englebourn  Street.  At 
the  end  of  the  straggling  village  stands  the  church  with  its 
square  tower,  a  lofty  gray  stone  building,  with  bits  of  fine 
decorated  architecture  about  it,  but  much  of  churchwarden 
Gothic  supervening.  The  churchyard  is  large,  and  the 
graves,  as  you  can  see  plainly,  even  from  this  distance,  are 
all  crowded  on  the  southern  side.  The  rector's  sheep  are 
feeding  in  the  northern  part  nearest  to  us,  and  a  small 
gate  at  one  corner  opens  into  his  garden.  The  rectory 
looks  large  and  comfortable,  and  its  grounds  well  cared  for 
and  extensive,  with  a  rookery  of  elms  at  the  lawn's  end. 
It  is  the  chief  house  of  the  place,  for  there  is  no  resident 
squire.  The  principal  street  contains  a  few  shops,  some 
dozen,  perhaps,  in  all ;  and  several  farmhouses  lie  a  little 
back  from  it,  with  gardens  in  front,  and  yards  and  barns 
and  orchards  behind ;  and  there  are-  two  public  houses. 
The  other  dwellings  are  mere  cottages,  and  very  bad  ones 
for  the  most  part,  with  floors  below  the  level  of  the  street. 
Almost  every  house  in  the  village  is  thatched,  which  adds 
to  the  beauty,  though  not  to  the  comfort,  of  the  place.  The 
rest  of  the  population  who  do  not  live  in  the  street  are 
dotted  about  the  neighboring  lanes,  chiefly  towards  the 
west,  on  our  right  as  we  look  down  from  the  Hawk's 
Lynch.     On  this  side  the  country  is  more  open,  and  here 


276  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

most  of  the  farmers  live,  as  we  may  see  by  the  number  of 
homesteads.  And  there  is  a  small  brook  on  that  side,  too, 
which  with  careful  damming  is  made  to  turn  a  mill,  there 
where  you  see  the  clump  of  poplars.  On  our  left  as  Ave 
look  down,  the  country  to  the  east  of  the  village,  is  thickly 
wooded ;  but  we  can  see  that  there  is  a  village  green  on 
that  side,  and  a  few  scattered  cottages,  the  furthest  of 
which  stands  looking  out  like  a  little  white  eye,  from  the 
end  of  a  dense  copse. 

Beyond  it  there  is  no  sign  of  habitation  for  some  two 
miles;  then  you  can  see  the  tall  chimneys  of  a  great 
house,  and  a  well-timbered  park  round  it.  The  Grange 
is  not  inEnglebourn  parish  —  happily  for  that  parish,  one 
is  sorry  to  remark.  It  must  be  a  very  bad  squire  who 
does  not  do  more  good  than  harm  by  living  in  a  country 
village.  But  there  are  very  bad  squires,  and  the  owner 
of  the  Grange  is  one  of  them.  He  is,  however,  for  the 
most  part,  an  absentee,  so  that  we  are  little  concerned  with 
him,  and  in  fact,  have  only  to  notice  this  one  of  his  bad 
habits,  that  he  keeps  that  long  belt  of  woodlands,  which 
runs  into  Englebourn  parish,  and  comes  almost  up  to  the 
village,  full  of  hares  and  pheasants.  He  has  only  suc- 
ceeded to  the  property  some  three  or  four  years,  and  yet 
the  head  of  game  on  the  estate,  and  above  all  in  the  woods, 
has  trebled  or  quadrupled.  Pheasants  by  hundreds  are 
reared  under  hens,  from  eggs  bought  in  London,  and  run 
about  the  keepers'  houses  as  tame  as  barn-door  fowls  all 
the  summer.  When  the  first  party  comes  down  for  the 
first  lattue,  early  in  October,  it  is  often  as  much  as  the 
beaters  can  do  to  persuade  these  pampered  fowls  that  they 
are  wild  game,  whose  duty  it  is  to  get  up  and  fly  away 
and  be  shot  at.  However,  they  soon  learn  more  of  the 
world, —  such  of  them,  at  least,  as  are  not  slain, —  and  are 
anmistakable  wild  birds  in  a  few  days.     Then  they  take 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  277 

to  roosting  farther  from  their  old  haunts,  more  in  the  out- 
skirts of  the  woods,  and  the  time  comes  for  others  besides 
the  squire's  guests  to  take  their  education  in  hand,  and 
teach  pheasants  at  least  that  they  are  no  native  British 
birds.  These  are  a  wild  set,  living  scattered  about  the 
wild  country ;  turf-cutters,  broom-makers,  squatters,  with 
indefinite  occupations  and  nameless  habits,  a  race  hated 
of  keepers  and  constables.  These  have  increased  and 
flourished  of  late  years  ;  and,  notwithstanding  the  impris- 
onments and  transportations  which  deprive  them  periodi- 
cally of  the  most  enterprising  members  of  their  community, 
one  and  all  give  thanks  for  the  day  when  the  owner  of 
the  Grange  took  to  pheasant  breeding.  If  the  demorali- 
zation stopped  with  them,  little  harm  might  come  of  it, 
as  they  would  steal  fowls  in  the  homesteads  if  there 
were  no  pheasants  in  the  woods  —  which  latter  are 
less  dangerous  to  get,  and  worth  more  when  gotten. 
But,  unhappily,  this  method  of  earning  a  livelihood  has 
strong  attractions,  and  is  catching ;  and  the  cases  of  farm 
laborers  who  .get  into  trouble  about  game  are  more  fre- 
quent, season  by  season,  in  the  neighboring  parishes,  and 
Englebouun  is  no  better  than  the  rest.  And  the  men  are 
not  likely  to  be  much  discouraged  from  these  practices,  or 
taught  better  by  the  farmers ;  for,  if  there  is  one  thing 
more  than  another  that  drives  that  sturdy  set  of  men,  the 
Englebourn  yeomen,  into  a  frenzy,  it  is  talk  of  the  game 
in  the  Grange  covers.  Not  that  they  dislike  sport ;  they 
like  it  too  well,  and,  moreover,  have  been  used  to  their 
fair  share  of  it.  For  the  late  squire  left  the  game  entirely 
in  their  hands.  "  You  know  best  how  much  game  your 
land  will  carry  without  serious  damage  to  the  crops,"  he 
used  to  say.  "  I  like  to  show  my  friends  a  fair  day's  sport 
when  they  are  with  me,  and  to  have  enough  game  to  sup- 
ply the  house  and  make  a  few  presents.  Beyond  that  it 
24 


278  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

is  no  affair  of  mine.  You  can  course  whenever  you  like ; 
and  let  me  know  when  you  want  a  day's  shooting,  andy^u 
shall  have  it."  Under  this  system  the  yeomen  became 
keen  sportsmen  ;  they  and  all  their  laborers  took  an  inter- 
est in  preserving,  and  the  whole  district  would  have  risen 
on  a  poacher.  The  keeper's  place  became  a  sinecure,  and 
the  squire  had  as  much  game  as  he  wanted  without  ex- 
pense, and  was,  moreover,  the  most  popular  man  in  the 
county.  Even  after  the  new  man  came,  and  all  was 
changed,  that  mere  revocation  of  their  sporting  liberties, 
and  the  increase  of  game,  unpopular  as  these  things  were, 
would  not  alone  have  made,  the  farmers  so  bitter,  and  have 
raised  that  sense  of  outraged  justice  in  them.  But  with 
these  changes  came  in  a  custom  new  in  the  country  —  the 
custom  of  selling  the  game/  At  first  the  report  was  not 
believed ;  but  soon  it  became  notorious  that  no  head  of 
game  from  the  Grange  estates  was  ever  given  away,  that 
not  only  did  the  tenants  never  get  a  brace  of  birds  or  a 
hare,  or  the  laborers  a  rabbit,  but  not  one.of  the  gentle- 
men who  helped  to  kill  the  game  ever  found  any  of  the 
bag  in  his  dog-cart  after  the  day's  shooting.  Nay,  so 
shameless  had  the  system  become,  and  so  highly  was  the 
art  of  turning  the  game  to  account  cultivated  at  the  Grange, 
that  the  keepers  sold  powder  and  shot  to  any  of  the  guests 
who  had  emptied  their  own  belts  or  flasks  at  something 
over  the  market  retail  price.  The  light  cart  drove  to  the 
market-town  twice  a  week  in*  the  season,  loaded  heavily 
with  game,  but  more  heavily  with  the  hatred  and  scorn  of 
the  farmers ;  and,  if  deep  and  bitter  curses  could  break 
patent  axles  or  necks,  the  new  squire  and  his  game-cart 
would  not  long  have  vexed  the  country  side.  As  it  was, 
not  a  man  but  his  own  tenants  would  salute  him  in  the 
market-place ;  and  these  repaid  themselves  for  the  unwill- 
ing courtesy  by  bitter  reflections  on  a  squire  who  was 


TOM  BEOWN   AT    OXFORD.  279 

mean  enough  to  pay  his  butcher's  and  poulterer  s  bill  out 
of  their  pockets. 

Alas,  that  the  manly  instinct  of  sport  which  is  so  strong 
in  all  of  us  Englishmen  —  which  sends  Oswell's  single- 
Landed  against  the  mightiest  beasts  that  walk  the  earth, 
and  takes  the  poor  cockney  journeyman  out  a  ten  miles' 
walk  almost  before  daylight  on  the  rare  summer  holiday 
mornings,  to  angle  with  rude  tackle  in  reservoir  or  canal  — 
6hould  be  dragged  through  such  mire  as  this  in  many  an 
English  shire  in  our  day.  If  English  landlords  want  to 
go  on  shooting  game  much  longer,  they  must  give  up  sell- 
ing it.  For  if  selling  game  becomes  the  rule,  and  not  the 
exception  (as  it  seems  likely  to  do  before  long),  good-by 
to  sport  in  England.  Every  man  who  loves  his  country 
more  than  his  pleasures  or  his  pocket  —  and,  thank  God, 
that  includes  the  great  majority  of  us  yet,  however  much 
we  may  delight  in  gun  and  rod,  let  Mr.  Bright  and  every 
demagogue  in  the  land  say  what  they  please  —  will  cry, 
"  Down  with  it,"  and  lend  a  hand  to  put  it  down  forever. 

But  to  return  to  our  perch  on  the  Hawk's  Lynch  above 
Englebourn  village.  As  I  was  saying  just  now,  when  the 
sight  of  the  distant  Grange  and  its  woods  interrupted  me, 
there  is  no  squire  living  here.  The  rector  is  the  fourth 
of  his  race  who  holds  the  family  living  —  a  kind,  easy- 
going, gentlemanly  old  man,  a  Doctor  of  Divinity,  as 
becomes  his  position,  though  he  only  went  into  orders 
because  there  was  the  living  ready  for  him.  In  his  day 
he  had  been  a  good  magistrate  and  neighbor,  living  with, 
and  much  in  the  same  way  as,  the  squires  round  about ! 
But  his  contemporaries  had  dropped  off  one  by  one ;  his 
own  health  had  long  been  failing ;  his  wife  was  dead ;  and 
the  young  generation  did  not  seek  him.  His  work  and 
the  parish  had  no  real  hold  on  him ;  so  he  had  nothing  to 
fall  back  on,  and  had  become  a  confirmed   invalid,  seldom 


280  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

leaving  the  house  and  garden  even  to  go  to  church,  and 
thinking  more  of  his  dinner  and  his  health  than  of  all 
other  things  in  earth  or  heaven. 

The  only  child  who  remained  at  home  with  him  was  a 
daughter,  a  girl  of  nineteen  or  thereabouts,  whose  acquaint- 
ance we  shall  make  presently,  and  who  was  doing  all  that 
a  good  heart  and  sound  head  prompted  in  nursing  an  old 
hypochondriac  and  filling  his  place  in  the  parish.  But 
though  the  old  man  was  weak  and  selfish,  he  was  kind  in 
his  way,  and  ready  to  give  freely,  or  to  do  any  thing  which 
his  daughter  suggested  for  the  good  of  his  people,  provided 
the  trouble  were  taken  off  his  shoulders.  In  the  year 
before  our  tale  opens  he  had  allowed  some  thirty  acres  of 
his  glebe  to  be  parcelled  out  in  allotments  amongst  the 
poor ;  and  his  daughter  spent  almost  what  she  pleased  in 
clothing-clubs,  and  sick-clubs,  and  the  school,  without  a 
word  from  him.  Whenever  he  did  remonstrate,  she  man- 
aged to  get  what  she  wanted  out  of  the  house-money,  or 
her  own  allowance. 

We  must  make  acquaintance  with  such  other  of  the 
inhabitants  as  it  concerns  us  to  know  in  the  course  of  the 
story ;  for  it  is  broad  daylight,  and  the  villagers  will  be 
astir  directly.  Folk  who  go  to  bed  before  nine,  after  a 
hard  day's  work,  get  into  the  habit  of  turning  out  soon 
after  the  sun  calls  them.  80  now,  descending  from  the 
Hawk's  Lynch,  we  will  alight  at  the  east  .end  of  Engle- 
bourn,  opposite  the  little  white  cottage  which  looks  out  at 
the  end  of  the  great  wood,  near  the  village  green. 

Soon  after  five  on  that  bright  Sunday  morning,  Harry 
Winburn  unbolted  the  door  of  his  mother's  cottage,  and 
stepped  out  in  his  shirt-sleeves  on  to  the  little  walk  in 
front,  paved  with  pebbles.  Perhaps  some  of  my  readers 
will  recognize  the  name  of  an  old  acquaintance,  and  wonder 
how  he  got  here  ;  so  I  shall  explain  at  once.     Soon  after 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  281 

our  hero  went  to  school,  Harry's  father  had  dind  of  a 
fever.  He  had  been  a  journeyman  blacksmith,  and  in  the 
receipt,  consequently,  of  rather  better  wages  than  gener- 
ally fall  to  the  lot  of  the  peasantry,  but  not  enough  to  leave 
much  of  a  margin  over  current  expenditure.  Moreover, 
the  "Winburns  had  always  been  open-handed  with  what- 
ever money  they  had ;  so  that  all  he  left  for  his  widow 
and  child,  of  worldly  goods,  was  their  "  few  sticks "  of 
furniture,  £5  in  the  Savings-bank,  and  the  money  from 
his  burial-club,  which  was  not  more  than  enough  to  give 
him  a  creditable  funeral  —  that  object  of  honorable  am- 
bition to  all  the  independent  poor.  He  left,  however,  an- 
other inheritance  to  them,  which  is,  in  price,  above  rubies, 
neither  shall  silver  be  named  in  comparison  thereof, —  the 
inheritance  of  an  honest  name,  of  which  his  widow  was 
proud,  and  which  was  not  likely  to  suffer  in  her  hands. 

After  the  funeral,  she  removed  to  Englebourn,  her  own 
native  village,  and  kept  her  old  father's  house,  till  his 
death.  He  was  one  of  the  woodmen  to  the  Grange,  and 
lived  in  the  cottage  at  the  corner  of  the  wood  in  which  his 
work  lay.  "When  he,  too,  died,  hard  times  came  on  Widow 
"Winburn.  The  steward  allowed  her  to  keep  on  the 
cottage.  The  rent  was  a  sore  burden  to  her,  but  she 
would  sooner  have  starved  than  leave  it.  Parish  relief 
was  out  of  the  question  for  her  father's  child  and  her 
husband's  widow  ;  so  she  turned  her  hand  to  every  odd 
job  whfch  offered,  and  went  to  work  in  the  fields  when 
nothing  else  could  be  had.  Whenever  there  was  sickness 
in  the  place,  she  was  an  untiring  nurse  ;  and  at  one  time, 
for  some  nine  months,  she  took  the  office  of  postman,  and 
walked  daily  some  nine  miles  through  a  severe*  winter. 
The  fatigue  and  exposure  had  broken  down  her  health, 
and  made  her  an  old  woman  before  her  time.  At  last,  in 
a  lucky  hour,  the  doctor  came  to  hear  of  her  praise- 
24* 


282  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

worthy  struggles,  and  gave  her  the  rectory  washing,  which 
had  made  her  life  a  comparatively  easy  one  again. 

During  all  this  time  her  poor  neighbors*  had  stood  by 
her  as  the  poor  do  stand  by  one  another,  helping  her  in 
numberless  small  ways,  so  that  she  had  been  able  to  real- 
ize the  great  object  of  her  life,  and  keep  Harry  at  school 
till  he  was  nearly  fourteen.  By  this  time  he  had  learned 
all  that  the  village  pedagogue  could  teach,  and  had,  in  fact, 
become  an  object  of  mingled  pride  and  jealousy  to  that 
worthy  man,  who  had  his  misgivings  lest  Harry's  fame 
as  a  scholar  should  eclipse  his  own  before  many  years 
were  over. 

Mrs.  Winburn's  character  was  so  good,  that  no  sooner 
was  her  son  ready  for  a  place  than  a  place  was  ready  for 
him ;  he  stepped  at  once  into  the  dignity  of  carter's  boy, 
and  his  earnings,  when  added  to  his  mother's,  made  them 
comfortable  enough.  Of  course,  she  was  wrapped  up  in 
him,  and  believed  that  there  was  no  such  boy  in  the 
parish.  And  indeed  she  was  nearer  the  truth  than  most 
mothers,  for  he  soon  grew  into  a  famous  specimen  of  a 
countryman ;  tall  and  lithe,  full  of  nervous  strength,  and 
not  yet  bowed  down  or  stiffened  by  the  constant  toil  of  a 
laborer's  daily  life.  In  these  matters,  however,  he  had 
rivals  in  the  village ;  but  in  intellectual  accomplishments 
ne  was  unrivalled.  He  was  full  of  learning  according  to 
the  village  standard,  could  write  and  cipher  well,  \vas  fond 
of  reading  such  books  as  came  in  his  way,  and  spoke  his 
native  English  almost  without  an  accent.  He  is  one-and- 
twenty  at  the  time  when  our  story  takes  him  up,  a 
thoroughly  skilled  laborer,  the  best  hedger  and  ditcher  in 
the  parish ;  and  when  his  blood  is  up,  he  can  shear  twenty 
sheep  in  a  day  without  razing  the  skin,  or  mow  for  sixteen 
hours  at  a  stretch,  with  rests  of  half  an  hour  for  meals 
twice  in  the  day. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  283 

Harry  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  for  a  minute,  as 
he  stood  outside  the  cottage  drinking  in  the  fresh  pure  air, 
laden  with  the  scent  of  the  honeysuckle  which  he  had 
trained  over  the  porch,  and  listening  to  the  chorus  of  lin- 
nets and  finches  from  the  copse  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  then  set  about  the  household  duties,  which  he  always 
made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  attend  to  himself  on  Sundays. 
First  he  unshuttered  the  little  lattice-window  of  the  room 
on  the  ground-floor ;  a  simple  operation  enough,  for  the 
shutter  was  a  mere  wooden  flap,  which  was  closed  over 
the  window  at  night,  and  bolted  with  a  wooden  bolt  on  the 
outside,  and  thrown  back  against  the  wall  in  the  daytime. 
Any  one  who  would  could  have  opened  it  at  any  moment 
of  the  night;  but  the  poor  sleep  sound  without  bolts. 
Then  he  took  the  one  old  bucket  of  the  establishment,  and 
strode  away  to  the  well  on  the  village-green,  and  filled  it 
with  clear  cold  water,  doing  the  same  kind  office  for  the 
vessels  of  two  or  three  rosy  little  damsels  and,  boys,  of 
ages  varying  from  ten  to  fourteen,  who  were  already  astir, 
and  to  whom  the  winding-up  of  the  parish  chain  and  bucket 
would  have  been  a  work  of  difficulty.  Returning  to  the 
cottage,  he  proceeded  to  fill  his  mother's  kettle,  sweep  the 
hearth,  strike  a  light,  and  make  up  the  fire  with  a  faggot 
from  the  little  stack  in  the  corner  of  the  garden.  Then 
he  hauled  the  three-legged  round  table  before  the  fire, 
and  dusted  it  carefully  over,  and  laid  out  the  black  japan 
tea-tray  with  two  delf  cups  and  saucers  of  gorgeous  pat- 
tern, and  diminutive  plates  to  match,  and  placed  the  sugar 
and  slop  basins,  the  big  loaf  and  small  piece  of  salt  butter, 
in  their  accustomed  places,  and  the  little  black  teapot  on 
the  hob  to  get  properly  warm.  There  was  little  more  to 
be  done  indoors,  for  the  furniture  was  scanty  enough ;  but 
every  thing  in  turn  received  its  fair  share  of  attention, 
»wd  the  little  room,  with  its  sunken  tiled  floor  and  yellow- 


284  TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

washed  walls,  looked  cheerful  and  homely.  Then  Harry 
turned  his  attention  to  the  shed  of  his  own  contriving 
which  stood  beside  the  faggot-stack,  and  from  which  ex- 
postulatory  and  plaintive  grunts  had  been  issuing  ever 
since  his  first  appearance  at  the  door,  telling  of  a  faithful 
and  useful  friend  who  was  sharp  set  on  Sunday  mornings, 
and  desired  his  poor  breakfast,  and  to  be  dismissed  for  the 
day  to  pick  up  the  rest  of  his  livelihood  with  his  brethren 
porkers  of  the  village  on  the  green  and  in  the  lanes. 
Harry  served  out  to  the  porker  the  poor  mess  which  the 
wash  of  the  cottage  and  the  odds  and  ends  of  the  little 
garden  afforded;  which  that  virtuous  animal  forthwith 
began  to  discuss  with  both  fore-feet  in  the  trough, — by 
way,  I  suppose,  of  adding  to  the  flavor,  —  while  his  master 
scratched  him  gently  between  the  ears  and  on  the  back 
with  a  short  stick  till  the  repast  was  concluded.  Then  he 
opened  the  door  of  the  sty,  and  the  grateful  animal 
rushed  out  into  the  lane,  and  away  to  the  green  with  a 
joyful  squeal  and  flirt  of  his  hind  quarters  in  the  air ;  and 
Harry,  after  picking  a  bunch-  of  wall-flowers,  and  pansies, 
and  hyacinths,  a  line  of  which  flowers  skirted  the  narrow 
garden  walk,  and  putting  them  in  a  long-necked  glass 
which  he  took  from  the  mantlepiece,  proceeded  to  his 
morning  ablutions,  ample  materials  for  which  remained  at 
the  bottom  of  the  family  bucket,  which  he  had  put  down 
on  a  little  bench  by  the  side  of  the  porch.  These  finished, 
he  retired  indoors  to  shave  and  dress  himself. 


.     CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ENGLEBOURN    VILLAGE. 

Dame  Winburn  was  not  long  after  her  son,  and  they 
Bat  down  together  to  breakfast,  in  their  best  Sunday 
clothes  —  she,  in  plain  large  white  cap,  which  covered  all 
but  a  line  of  gray  hair,  a  black  stuff  gown  reaching  to 
neck  and  wrists,  and  small  silk  neckerchief  put  on  like  a 
shawl ;  a  thin,  almost  gaunt,  old  woman,  whom  the  years 
had  not  used  tenderly,  and  who  showed  marks  of  their 
usage  —  but  a  resolute,  high-couraged  soul,  who  had  met 
hard  times  in  the  face,  and  could  meet  them  again  if  need 
were.  She  spoke  in  broad  Berkshire,  and  was  otherwise 
a  homely  body,  but  self-possessed  and  without  a  shade  of 
real  vulgarity  in  her  composition. 

The  widow  looked  with  some  anxiety  at  Harry  as  he 
took  his  seat.  Although  something  of  a  rustic  dandy,  of 
late  he  had  not  been  so  careful  in  this  matter  as  usual ; 
but,  in  consequence  of  her  reproaches,  on  this  Sunday 
there  was  nothing  to  complain  of.  His  black  velveteen 
shooting-coat  and  cotton  plush  waistcoat,  his  brown  cordu- 
roy knee  breeches  and  gaiters  sat  on  him  well,  and  gave 
the  world  assurance  of  a  well-to-do  man,  for  few  of  the 
Englebourn  laborers  rose  above  smock-frocks  and  fustian 
trousers.  He  wore  a  blue  bird's-eye  handkerchief  round 
his  neck,  and  his  shirt,  though  coarse  in  texture,  was  as 
white  as  the  sun  and  the  best  laundress  in  Englebourn 
could  manage  to  bleach  it.  There  was  nothing  to  find 
fault  with  in  his  dress  therefore,  but  still  his  mother  did 


286  TOM  BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

not  feel  quite  comfortable  as  she  took  stealthy  glances  at 
him.  Harry  was  naturally  rather  a  reserved  fellow,  and 
did  not  make  much  conversation  himself,  and  his  mother 
felt  a  little  embarrassed  on  this  particular  morning. 

It  was  not,  therefore,  until  Dame  Winburn  had  finished 
her  first  slice  of  bread  and  butter,  and  had  sipped  the 
greater  part  of  her  second  dish  of  tea  out  of  her  saucer, 
that  she  broke  silence. 

"  I  minded  thy  business  last  night,  Harry,  when  I  wur 
up  at  the  rectory  about  the  washin'.  It's  my  belief  as 
thou'lt  get  t'other  'lotment  next  quarter-day.  The  doctor 
spoke  very  kind  about  it,  and  said  as  how  he  heerd  a3 
high  a  character  o'  thee,  young  as  thee  bist,  as  of  are'  a 
man  in  the  parish,  and  as  how  he  wur  set  on  lettin'  the 
lots  to  they  as'd  do  best  by  'em ;  only  he  said  as  the  farm- 
ers went  agin  givin'  more  nor  an  acre  to  any  man  as 
worked  for  them,  and  the  doctor,  you  see,  he  don't  like  to 
go  altogether  agin  the  vestry  folk." 

"  What  business  is  it  o'  theirs,"  said  Harry,  "  so  long  as 
they  get  their  own  work  done  ?  There's  scarce  one  on 
fem  as  hasn't  more  land  already  nor  he  can  keep  as  should 
be,  and  for  all  that  they  want  to  snap  up  every  bit  as  falls, 
vacant,  so  as  no  poor  man  shall  get  it." 

"  'Tis  mostly  so  with  them  as  has,"  said  his  mother,  with 
a  half-puzzled  look;  "Scriptur  says  as  to  them  shall  be 
given,  and  they  shall  have  more  abundant."  Dame  Win- 
burn  spoke  hesitatingly,  and  looked  doubtfully  at  Harry, 
as  a  person  who  has  shot  with  a  strange  gun,  and  knows 
not  what  effect  the  bolt  may  have.  Harry  was  brought 
up  all  standing  by  this  unexpected  quotation  of  his  moth- 
er ;  but,  after  thinking  for  a  few  moments  while  he  cut 
himself  a  slice  of  bread,  replied,  — 

"  It  don't  say  as  those  shall  have  more  that  can't  use 
what  they've  got  already.    'Tis  a  deal  more  like  Naboth's 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  287 

vineyard  for  aught  as  I  can  see.  But  'tis  little  odds  to 
me  which  way  it  goes." 

"  How  canst  talk  so,  Harry  ?  "  said  his  mother,  reproach- 
fully ;  "  thou  knows't  thou  wast  set  on  it  last  fall,  like  a 
wapse  en  sugar.  Why,  scarce  a  day  passed  but  thou  wast  up 
to  the  rectory,  to  see  the  doctor  about  it ;  and  now  thou'rt 
like  to  get  it,  thou'lt  not  go  against  'un." 

Harry  looked  out  at  the  open  door,  without  answering. 
It  was  quite  true  that,  in  the  last  autumn,  he  ha*d  been 
very  anxious  to  get  as  large  an  allotment  as  he. could  into 
his  own  hands,  and  that  he  had  been  forever  up  towards 
the  rectory,  but  perhaps  not  always  on  the  allotment  busi- 
ness. He  was  naturally  a  self-reliant,  shrewd  fellow,  and 
felt  that  if  he  could  put  his  hand  on  three  or  four  acres  of 
land,  he  could  soon  make  himself  independent  of  the  farm- 
ers. He  knew  that  at  harvest-times,  and  whenever  there 
was  a  pinch  for  good  laborers,  they  would  be  glad  enough 
to  have  him ;  while  at  other  times,  with  a  few  acres  of  his 
own,  he  would  be  his  own  master,  and  could  do  much 
better  for  himself.  So  he  had  put  his  name  down  first  on 
the  doctor's  list,  taken  the  largest  lot  he  could  get,  and 
worked  it  so  well,  that  his  crops,  amongst  others,  had  been 
a  sort  of  village-show  last  harvest-time.  Many  of  the 
neighboring  allotments  stood  out  in  sad  contrast  to  those  of 
Harry  and  the  more  energetic  of  the  peasantry,  and  lay 
by  the  side  of  these  latter,  only  half  worked  and  full  of 
weeds,  and  the  rent  was  never  ready.  It  was  worse  than 
useless  to  let  matters  go  on  thus,  and  the  question  arose, 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  neglected  lots.  Harry,  and 
all  the  men  like  him,  applied  at  once  for  them  ;  and  their 
eagerness  to  get  them  had  roused  some  natural  jealousy 
amongst  the  farmers,  who  began  to  foresee  that  the  new 
system  might  shortly  leave  them  with  none  but  the  worst 
laborers.     So  the  vestry  had  pressed  on  the  doctor,  as 


288  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

Dame  Winburn  said,  not  to  let  any  man  have  more  than 
an  acre,  or  an  acre  and  a  half;  and  the  well-meaning,  easy- 
going, invalid  old  man  couldn't  make  up  his  mind  what  to 
do.  So  here  was  May  come  again,  and  the  neglected  lots 
were  still  in  the  nominal  occupation  of  the  idlers.  The 
doctor  got  no  rent,  and  was  annoyed  at  the  partial  failure 
of  a  scheme  which  he  had  not  indeed  originated,  but  for 
which  he  had  taken  much  credit  to  himself.  The  negli- 
gent occupiers  grumbled  that  they  were  not  allowed  a 
drawback  for  manure,  and  that  no  pigstys  were  put  up 
for  them.  "  'Twas  allers  understood  so,"  they  maintained, 
"  and  they'd  never  ha'  took  to  the  lots  but  for  that."  The 
good  men  grumbled  that  it  would  be  too  late  now  for  them 
to  do  more  than  clean  the  lots  of  weeds  this  year.  The 
farmers  grumbled  that  it  was  always  understood  no  man 
should  have  more  than  one  lot.  The  poor  rector  had  led 
his  flock  into  a  miry  place  with  a  vengeance.  People  who 
cannot  make  up  their  minds  breed  trouble  in  other  places 
besides  country  villages.  However  quiet  and  out  of  the 
way  the  place  may  be,  there  is  always  some  quasi  public 
topic  which  stands,  to  the  rural  Englishman,  in  the  place 
of  treaty,  or  budget,  or  reform-bill.  So  the  great  allotment 
question,  for  the  time,  was  that  which  exercised  the  minds 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Englebourn ;  and  until  lately  no  one 
nad  taken  a  keener  interest  in  it  than  Harry  Winburn. 
But  that  interest  had  now  much  abated,  and  so  Harry 
looked  through  the  cottage-door,  instead  of  answering  his 
mother. 

"  'Tis  my  belief  as  you  med  amost  hev  it  for  the  axin'," 
Dame  "Winburn  began  again,  when  she  found  that  he 
would  not  re-open  the  subject  himself.  "  The  young  missus 
said  as  much  to  me  herself  last  night.  Ah  !  to  be  sure, 
things  -d  go  better  if  she  had  the  guidin'  on  'em.". 

"  I'm  not  going  after  it  any  more,  mother.     We  can 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  289 

keep  the  bits  o'  sticks  here  together  without  it  while  you 
be  alive ;  and  if  any  thing  was  to  happen  to  you,  I  don't 
think  I  should  stay  in  these  parts.  But  it  don't  matter 
what  becomes  o'  me ;  I  can  earn  a  livelihood  anywhere." 

Dame  Winburn  paused  a  moment,  before  answering,  to 
subdue  her  vexation,  and  then  said,  "How  can  'ee  let 
hankcrin'  arter  a  lass  take  the  heart  out  o'  thee  so  ?  Hold 
up  thy  head,  and  act  a  bit  measterful.  The  more  thou 
makest  o*  thyself,  the  more  like  thou  art  to  win." 

"  Did  you  hear  aught  of  her,  mother,  last  night  ?  "  re- 
plied Harry,  taking  advantage  of  this  ungracious  opening 
to  speak  of  the  subject  which  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"I  heerd  she  wur  going  on  well,"  said  his  mother. 

"  No  likelihood  of  her  comin'  home  ?  " 

"  Not  as  I  could  make  out.  "Why,  she  hevn't  been  gone 
not  four  months.  Now,  do'ee  pluck  up  a  bit,  Harry  ;  and 
be  more  like  thyself." 

"Why,  mother,  I've  not  missed  a  day's  work  since 
Christmas ;  so  there  aint  much  to  find  fault  with." 

"  Nay,  Harry,  'tisn't  thy  work.  Thou  wert  always  good 
at  thy  work,  praise  God.  Thou'rt  thy  father's  own  son 
for  that.  But  thou  dostn't  keep  about  like,  and  take  thy 
place  wi'  the  lave  on  'em  since  Christmas.  Thou  look'st 
haggad  at  times,  and  folk'll  see  it,  and  talk  about  thee 
afore  long." 

"  Let  'em  talk.  I  mind  their  talk  no  more  than  last 
year's  wind,"  said  Harry,  abruptly. 

"  But  thy  old  mother  does,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
with  eyes  full  of  pride  and  love  ;  and  so  Harry,  who  was  a 
right  good  son,  began  to  inquire  what  it  was  which  was 
specially  weighing  on  his  mother's  mind,  determined  to  do 
any  thing  in  reason  to  replace  her  on  the  little  harmless 
social  pinnacle  from  which  she  was  wont  to  look  down  on 
all  the  other  mothers  and  sons  of  the  parish.  He  soon 
25 


290  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

found  out  that  her  present  grievance  arose  from  his  having 
neglected  his  place  as  ringer  of  the  heavy  bell  in  the 
village  peal  on  the  two  preceding  Sundays ;  and,  as  this 
post  was  in  some  sort  corresponding  to  stroke  of  the  boat 
at  Oxford,  her  anxiety  was  reasonable  enough.  So  Harry 
promised  to  go  to  ringing  in  good  time  that  morning,  and 
then  set  about  little  odds  and  ends  of  jobs  till  it  would  be 
time  to  start.  Dame  Winburn  went  to  her  cooking  and 
other  household  duties,  which  were  pretty  well  got  under 
when  her  son  took  his  hat  and  started  for  the  belfry.  She 
stood  at  the  door  with  a  half-peeled  potato  in  one  hand, 
shading  her  eyes  with  the  other,  as  she  watched  him  strid- 
ing along  the  raised  footpath  under  the  elms,  when  the 
sound  of  light  footsteps  and  pleasant  voices  coming  up  from 
the  other  direction  made  her  turn  round,  and  drop  a  cour- 
tesy as  the  rector's  daughter  and  another  young  lady 
stopped  at  her  door. 

"  Good  morning,  Betty,"  said  the  former;  "here's  a 
bright  Sunday  morning  at  last ;  isn't  it?" 

"'Tis,  indeed,  miss;  but  where  hev'ee  been  to?" 

"  Oh,  we've  only  been  for  a  little  walk  before  school- 
time.  This  is  my  cousin,  Betty.  She  hasn't  been  at 
Englebourn  since  she  was  quite  a  child ;  so  I've  been 
taking  her  to  the  Hawk's  Lynch  to  see  our  view." 

"And  you  can't  think  how  I  have  enjoyed  it,"  said  her 
cousin ;  "it  is  so  still  and  beautiful." 

"I've  heerd  say  as  there  aint  no  such  a  place  for 
thretty  mile  round,"  said  Betty,  proudly.  "  But  do  *ee 
come  in,  tho',  and  sit'ee  down  a  bit,"  she  added,  bustling 
insids  her  door,  and  beginning  to  rub  down  a  chair  with 
her  apron ;  "  'tis  a  smart  step  for  gentlefolk  to  walk  afore 
church."  Betty's  notions  of  the  walking  powers  of  gentle- 
folk were  very  limited. 

u  No,  thank  you,  we  must  be  getting  on,"  said  Misa 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  2t?  t 

Winter ;  "but  how  lovely  your  flowers  are.  Look,  Mary, 
did  you  ever  see  such  double  pansies  ?  We've  nothing 
like  them  at  the  rectory." 

"Do'ee  take  some,"  said  Betty,  emerging  again,  and 
beginning  to  pluck  a  handful  of  her  finest  flowers ;  "  'tis 
all  our  Harry's  doing ;  he's  'mazin  partickler  about  seeds." 

"  He  seems  to  make  every  thing  thrive,  Betty.  There, 
that's  plenty,  thank  you.  We  wont  take  many,  for  fear 
they  should  fade  before  church  is  over." 

"  Oh,  dont'ee  be  afeard,  there's  plenty  more ;  and  you 
be  as  welcome  as  the  day." 

Betty  never  said  a  truer  word ;  she  was  one  of  the  real 
open-handed  sort,  who  are  found  mostly  amongst  those 
who  have  the  least  to  give.  They  or  any  one  else  were 
welcome  to  the  best  she  had. 

So  the  young  ladies  took  the  flowers,  and  passed  on 
towards  the  Sunday  school. 

(The  rector's  daughter  might  have  been  a  year  or  so 
older  than  her  companion  ;  she  looked  more.  Her  position 
in  the  village  had  been  one  of  much  anxiety,  and  she  was 
fast  getting  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders.  The  other 
young  lady  was  a  slip  of  a  girl  just  coming  out;  in  fact, 
this  was  the  first  visit  which  she  had  ever  paid  out  of 
leading  strings.  She  had  lived  in  a  happy  home,  where 
she  had  always  been  trusted  and  loved,  and  perhaps  a 
thought  too  much  petted. 

There  are  some  natures  which  attract  petting ;  you  can't 
help  doing  your  best  to  spoil  them  in  this  way,  and  it  is 
satisfactory  therefore  to  know  (as  the  fact  is)  that  they 
arc  just  the  ones  which  cannot  be  so  spoilt. 

Miss  Mary  was  one  of  these.  Trustful,  for  she  had 
never  been  tricked ;  fearless,  for  she .  had  never  been 
cowed  ;  pure  and  bright  as  the  Englebourn  brook  at  fifty 
yards  from  its  parent  spring  in  the  chalk,  for  she  had  a 


292  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

pure  and  bright  nature,  and  had  come  in  contact  as  yet 
with  nothing  which  could  soil  or  cast  a  shadow !  What 
wonder  that  her  life  gave  forth  light  and  music  as  it 
glided  on,  and  that  ever}'  one  Avho  knew  her  was  eager  to 
have  her  with  them,  to  warm  themselves  in  the  light  and 
rejoice  in  the  music. 

Besides  all  her  other  attractions,  or  in  consequence  of 
*hem  for  any  thing  I  know,  she  was  one  of  the  merriest 
young  women  in  the  world,  always  ready  to  bubble  over 
and  break  out  into  clear  laughter  on  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion. And  provocation  had  not  been  wanting  during  the 
last  two  days  which  she  had  spent  with  her  cousin.  As 
usual,  she  had  brought  sunshine  with  her,  and  the  old. 
doctor  had  half  forgotten  his  numerous  complaints  and 
grievances  for  the  time.  So  the  cloud,  which  generally 
hung  over  the  house,  had- been  partially  lifted,  and  Mary, 
knowing  and  suspecting  nothing  of  the  dark  side  of  life  at 
Englebourn  rectory,  rallied  her  cousin  on  her  gravity, 
and  laughed  till  she  cried  at  the  queer  ways  and  talk  of 
the  people  about  the  place. 

As  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing  of  Dame  Winburn, 
Mary  began,  — 

"  Well,  Katie,  I  can't  say  that  you  have  mended  your 
case  at  all." 

"  Surely,  you  can't  deny  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
character  in  Betty's  face  ?  "  said  Miss  Winter. 

"  Oh,  plenty  of  character ;  all  your  people,  as  soon  as 
they  begin  to  stiffen  a  little  and  get  wrinkles,  seem  to  be 
full  of  character,  and  I  enjoy  it  much  more  than  beauty ; 
but  we  were  talking  about  beauty,  you  know." 

"  Betty's  son  is  the  handsomest  young  man  in  the 
parish,"  said  Miss  Winter  ;  "  and  I  must  say  I  don't  think 
you  could  find  a  better-looking  one  anywhere." 

"  Then  I  can't  have  seen  him." 


TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD.  293 

i:  Indeed  you  have  ;  I  pointed  him  out  to  you  at  the  post- 
office  yesterday.  Don't  you  remember  ?  he  was  waiting 
for  a  letter." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  now  I  remember.  "Well,  he  was  better  than 
most.  But  the  faces  of  your  young  people,  in  general, 
are  not  interesting,  —  I  don't  mean  the  children,  but  the 
young  men  and  women,  —  and  they  are  awkward  and 
clownish  in  their  manners,  without  the  quaintness  of  the 
eider  generation,  who  are  the  funniest  old  dears  in  the 
world." 

"  They  will  all  be  quaint  enough  as  they  get  older. 
You  must  remember  the  sort  of  life  they  lead.  They  get 
their  notions  very  slowly,  and  they  must  have  notions  in 
their  heads  before  they  can  show  them  on  their  faces." 

"  Well,  your  Betty's  son  looked  as  if  he  had  a  notion  of 
hanging  himself  yesterday." 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter,  Mary.  I  hear  he  is  desper- 
ately in  love." 

"  Poor  fellow !  that  makes  a  difference,  of  course.  I 
hope  he  wont  carry  out  his  notion.  Who  is  it  ?  do  you 
know  ?     Do  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Our  gardener's  daughter,  I  believe.  Of  course,  I  never 
meddle  with  these  matters,  but  one  can't  help  hearing  the 
servants'  gossip.  I  think  it  likely  to  be  true,  for  he  was 
about  our  premises  at  all  sorts  of  times  until  lately,  and  I 
never  see  him  now  that  she  is  away." 

"  Is  she  pretty  ? "  said  Mary,  who  was  getting  inter- 
ested. 

"  Yes,  she  is  our  belle.  In  fact,  they  are  the  two  beau- 
ties of  the  parish." 

"  Fancy  that  cross-grainecf  old  Simon  having  a  pretty 
daughter.  Oh,  Katie,  look  here,  who  is  this  figure  of 
fun  ?  " 

.  The  figure  of  fun  was  a  middle-aged  man  of  small  stat* 
25* 


294  TOM  BROWN  AT   OXFORD. 

ure,  and  very  bandy-legged,  dressed  in  a  blue  coat  anj 
brass  buttons,  and  carrying  a  great  bass-viol  bigger  than 
himself,  in  a  rough  baize  cover.  He  came  out  of  a  foot- 
path into  the  road  just  before  them,  and  on  seeing  them 
touched  his  hat  to  Miss  Winter,  and  then  fidgeted  along 
with  his  load,  and  jerked  his  head  in  a  deprecatory  man- 
ner away  from  them  as  he  walked  on,  with  the  sort  of  look 
and  action  which  a  favorite  terrier  uses  when  his  master 
holds  out  a  lighted  cigar  to  his  nose.  He  was  the  village 
tailor  and  constable,  also  the  principal  performer  in  the 
church-music  which  obtained  in  Englebourn.  In  the  lat- 
ter capacity  he  had  of  late  come  into  collision  with  Miss 
Winter.  For  this  was  another  of  the  questions  which 
divided  the  parish  —  the  great  church-music  question. 
From  time  immemorial,  at  least  ever  since  the  gallery  at 
the  west  end  had  been  built,  the  village  psalmody  had 
been  in  the  hands  of  the  occupiers  of  that  Protestant 
structure.  In  the  middle  of  the  front  row  sat  the  musi- 
cians, three  in  number,  who  played  respectively  a  bass- 
viol,  a  fiddle,  and  a  clarionet.  On  one  side  of  them  were 
two  or  three  young  women,  who  sang  treble  —  shrill,  ear- 
piercing  treble,  —  with  a  strong  nasal  Berkshire  drawl  in 
it.  On  the  other  side  of  the  musicians  sat  the  blacksmith, 
the  wheelwright,  and  other  tradesmen  of  the  place. 
Tradesman  means  in  that  part  of  the  country  what  we 
mean  by  artisan,  and  these  were  naturally  allied  more 
with  the  laborers,  and  consorted  with  them.  So  far  as 
church-going  was  concerned,  they  formed  a  sort  of  inde- 
pendent opposition,  sitting  in  the  gallery,  instead  of  in  the 
nave,  where  the  farmers  and  the  two  or  three  principal 
shopkeepers  —  the  great  landed  and  commercial  inter- 
ests—  regularly  sat  and  slept,  and  where  the  two  publicans 
occupied  pews,  but  seldom  made  even  the  pretence  of 
worshipping. 


TOU    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  295 

The  rest  of  the  gallery  was  filled  by  the  able-bodied 
male  peasantry.  The  old  worn-out  men  generally  sat 
below  in  the  free  seats ;  the  women  also,  and  some  few 
boys.  But  the  hearts  of  these  latter  were  in  the  gallery, — 
a  seat  on  the  back  benches  of  which  was  a  sign  that  they 
had  indued  the  toga  virilis,  and  were  thenceforth  free  from 
maternal  and  pastoral  tutelage  in  the  matter  of  church- 
going.  The  gallery  thus  constituted  had  gradually  usurped 
the  psalmody  as  their  particular  and  special  portion  of  the 
service ;  they  left  the  clerk  and  the  school  children,  aided 
by  such  of  the  aristocracy  below  as  cared  to  join,  to  do 
the  responses  ;  but,  when  singing  time  came,  they  reigned 
supreme.  The  slate  on  which  the  Psalms  were  announced 
was  hung  out  from  before  the  centre  of  the  gallery,  and 
the  clerk,  leaving  his  place  under  the  reading  desk, 
marched  up  there  to  give  them  out.  He  took  this  method 
of  preserving  his  constitutional  connection  with  the  sing- 
ing, knowing  that  otherwise  he  could  not  have  maintained 
the  rightful  position  of  his  office  in  this  matter.  So  mat- 
ters had  stood  until  shortly  before  the  time  of  our  story. 

The  present  curate,  however,  backed  by  Miss  Winter, 
had  tried  a  reform.  He  was  a  quiet  man,  with  a  wife  and 
several  children,  and  small  means.  He  had  served  in  the 
diocese  ever  since  he  had  been  ordained,  in  a  hum-drum 
sort  of  way,  going  where  he  was  sent  for,  and  performing 
his  routine  duties  reasonably  well,  but  without  showing 
any  great  aptitude  for  his  work.  He  had  little  interest, 
and  had  almost  given  up  expecting  promotion,  which  he 
certainly  had  done  nothing  particular  to  merit.  But  there 
was  one  point  on  which  he  was  always  ready  to  go  out  of 
his  way,  and  take  a  little  trouble.  He  was  a  good  musi- 
cian, and  had  formed  choirs  at  all  his  former  curacies. 

Soon  after  his  arrival,  therefore,  he,  in  concert  with 
Miss  Winter,  had  begun  to  train  the  children  in  church- 


296  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFOUD. 

music.  A  small  organ,  which  had  stood  in  a  passage  in 
the  rectory  for  many  years,  had  been  repaired,  and  ap- 
peared first  at  the  schoolroom,  and  at  length  under  the 
gallery  of  the  church ;  and  it  was  announced  one  week  to 
the  party  in  possession,  that,  on  the  next  Sunday,  the 
constituted  authorities  would  take  the  church-music  into 
their  own  hands.  Then  arose  a  strife,  the  end  of  which 
had  nearly  been  to  send  the  gallery  off  in  a  body,  headed 
by  the  offended  bass-viol,  to  the  small  red-brick  little 
Bethel  at  the  other  end  of  the  village.  Fortunately,  the 
curate  had  too  much  good  sense  to  drive  matters  to  ex- 
tremities, and  so  alienate  the  parish  constable,  and  a  large 
part  of  his  flock,  though  he  had  not  tact  or  energy  enough 
to  bring  them  round  to  his  own  views.  So  a  compromise 
was  come  to ;  and  the  curate's  choir  were  allowed  to  chant 
the  Psalms  and  Canticles,  which  had  always  been  read 
before,  while* the  gallery  remained  triumphant  masters  of 
the  regular  Psalms. 

My  readers  will  now  understand  why  Miss  Winter's 
salutation  to  the  musical  constable  was  not  so  cordial  a3 
it  was  to  the  other  villagers  whom  they  had  come  across 
previously. 

Indeed,  Miss  Winter,  though  she  acknowledged  the 
constable's  salutation,  did  not  seem  inclined  to  encourage 
him  to  accompany  them,  and  talk  his  mind  out,  although 
he  was  going  the  same  way  with  them  ;  and  instead  of 
drawing  him  out,  as  was  her  wont  in  such  cases,  went  on 
talking  herself  to  her  cousin. 

The  little  man  walked  out  in  the  road,  evidently  in 
trouble  of  mind.  He  did  not  like  to  drop  behind  or  go 
ahead  without  some  further  remark  from  Miss  Winter 
and  yet  could  not  screw  up  his  courage  to  the  point 
of  opening  the  conversation  himself.  So  he  ambled  on 
alongside  the  footpath  on  which  they  were  walking,  show- 


T03I    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  297 

ing  his  discomfort  by  a  twist  of  his  neck  ever.?  few 
seconds  (as  though  he  were  nodding  at  them  with  the  side 
of  his  head)  and  perpetual  shiftings  of  his  bass-viol,  and 
hunching  up  of  one  shoulder. 

The  conversation  of  the  young  ladies  under  these  r\v- 
cumstances  was  of  course  forced;  and  Miss  Mary,  thornr*' 
infinitely  delighted  at  the  meeting,  soon  began  to  pity  then 
involuntary  companion.  She  was  full  of  the  sensitive 
instinct  which  the  best  sort  of  women  have  to  such  a 
marvellous  extent,  and  which  tells  them  at  once  and  infal 
libly  if  any  one  in  their  company  has  even  a  creased  rose- 
leaf  next  their  moral  skin. 

Before  they  had  walked  a  hundred  yards  she  was 
interceding  for  the  rebellious  constable. 

"  Katie,"  she  said  softly,  in  French,  "  do  speak  to  him. 
The  poor  man  is  frightfully  uncomfortable." 

"  It  serves  him  right,"  answered  Miss  Winter,  in  the 
same  language ;  "  you  don't  know  how  impertinent  he  was 
the  other  day  to  Mr.  Walker.  And  he  wont  give  way  on 
the  least  point,  and  leads  the  rest  of  the  old  singers,  and 
makes  them  as  stubborn  as  himself." 

"  But  do  look  how  he  is  winking  and  jerking  his  head 
at  you.  You  really  mustn't  be  so  cruel  to  him,  Katie.  I 
shall  have  to  begin  talking  to  him  if  you  don't." 

Thus  urged,  Miss  Winter  opened  rthe  conversation  by 
asking  after  his  wife,  and,  when  she  had  ascertained  "  that 
his  missus  wur  pretty  middlin',"  made  some  other  common- 
place remark,  and  relapsed  into  silence.  By  the  help  of 
Mary,  however,  a  sort  of  disjointed  dialogue  was  kept  up  till 
they  came  to  the  gate  which  led  up  to  the  school,  into 
which  the  children  were  trooping  by  two's  and  three's. 
Here  the  ladies  turned  in,  and  were  going  up  the  walk, 
towards  the  school  door,  when  the  constable  summoned 
up  courage  to  speak  on  the  matter  which  was  troubling 


298  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

nim,  and,  resting  the  bass-viol  carefully  on  his  right  foot| 
called  after  them, —     . 

"  Oh,  please,  marra !     Miss  Winter !  " 

"  Well,"  she  said,  quietly,  turning  round,  "  what  do  you 
wish  to  say  ?  " 

"  Wy,  please,  marm,  I  hopes  as  you  don't  think  I  be  any 
ways  linked,  'bout  this  here  quire-singin',  as  they  calls  it 
—  I'm  sartin  you  knows  as  there  aint  a'inost  nothing  I 
wouldn't  do  to  please  ee." 

"  Well,  you  know  how  to  do  it  very  easily,"  she  said 
when  he  paused.  "  I  don't  ask  you  even  to  give  up  your 
music  and  try  to  work  with  us,  though  I  think  you  might 
have  done  that.  I  only  ask  you  to  use  some  psalms  and 
tunes  which  are  fit  to  be  used  in  a  church." 

"  To  be  sure  us  ool.  'Taint  we  as  wants  no  new-fangled 
tunes ;  them  as  we  sings  be  aal  owld  ones  as  ha'  been  used 
in  our  church  ever  since  I  can  mind.  But  you  only  choose 
thaay  as  you  likes  out  o'  the  book,  and  we  be  ready  to  kep 
to  they." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Walker  made  a  selection  for  you  some 
weeks  ago,"  said  Miss  Winter ;  "  did  not  he  ?  " 

"'Ees,  but  'tis  narra  mossel  o'  use  for  we  to  try  his 
'goriums  and  sich  like.  I  hopes  you  wunt  be  offended  wi* 
me,  miss,  for  I  be  telling  naught  but  truth."  He  spoke 
louder  as  they  got  nearer  to  the  school  door,  and,  as  they 
■were  opening  it,  shouted  his  last  shot  after  them,  "  "l*is  na 
good  to  try  thaay  tunes  o'  his'n,  miss.  When  us  praises 
God,  us  likes  to  praise  un  joyful." 

"  There,  you  hear  that,  Mary,"  said  Miss  Winter. 
u  You'll  soon  begin  to  see  why  I  look  grave.  There  never 
was  such  a  hard  parish  to  manage.  Nobody  will  do  what 
they  ought.  I  never  can  get  them  to  do  any  thing.  Per- 
haps we  may  manage  to  teach  the  children  better,  that's 
my  only  comfort." 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  2lJ9 

"  But,  Katie  dear,  what  do  the  poor  things  sing  ? 
Psalms,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  they  choose  all  the  odd  ones  on  purpose, 
I  believe.     Which  class  will  you  take  ?" 

And  so  the  young  ladies  settled  to  their  teaching,  and 
the  children  in  her  class  all  fell  in  love  with  Mary  before 
church-time. 

The  bass-viol  proceeded  to  the  church  and  did  the  usual 
rehearsals,  and  gossiped  with  the  sexton,  to  whom,  he 
confided  the  fact  that  the  young  missus  was  terrible  vexed. 
The  bells  soon  began  to  ring,  and  Widow  Winburn's 
heart  was  glad  as  she  listened  to  the  full  peal,  and  thought 
to  herself  that  it  was  her  Harry  who  was  making  so  much 
noise  in  the  world,  and  speaking  to  all  the  neighborhood. 
Then  the  peal  ceased  as  church-time  drew  near,  and  the 
single  bell  began,  and  the  congregation  came  flocking  in 
from  all  sides.  The  farmers,  letting  their  wives  and 
children  enter,  gathered  round  the  chief  porch  and  com- 
pared notes  in  a  ponderous  manner  on  crops  and  markets. 
The  laborers  collected  near  the  door  by  which  the  gallery 
was  reached.  All  the  men  of  the  parish  seemed  to  like 
standing  about  before  church,  though  poor  Walker,  the 
curate,  did  not  appear.  He  came  up  with  the  school 
children  and  the  young  ladies,  and  in  due  course  the  bell 
stopped  and  the  service  began.  There  was  a  very  good 
congregation  still  at  Englebourn;  the  adult  generation 
had  been  bred  up  in  times  when  every  decent  person  in 
the  parish  went  to  church,  and  the  custom  was  still  strong, 
notwithstanding  the  rector's  bad  example.  He  scarcely 
ever  came  to  church  himself  in  the  mornings,  though  his 
wheel-chair  might  be  seen  going  up  and  down  on  the 
gravel  before  his  house  or  on  the  lawn  on  warm  days ; 
and  this  was  one  of  his  daughter's  greatest  troubles. 

The  little  choir  of  children  sang  admirably,  led  by  the 


300  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

schoolmistress,  and  Miss  "Winter  and  the  curate  exchanged 
approving  glances.  They  performed  the  liveliest  chant  in 
their  collection,  that  the  opposition  might  have  no  cause 
to  complain  of  their  want  of  joyfulness.  And  in  turn  Miss 
Wheeler  was  in  hopes  that  out  of  deference  to  her,  the 
usual  rule  of  selection  in  the  gallery  might  have  been 
modified.  It  was  with  no  small  annoyance,  therefore,  that, 
after  the  litany  was  over  and  the  tuning  finished,  she 
heard  the  clerk  give  out  that  they  would  praise  God  by 
singing  part  of  the  ninety-first  Psalm.  Mary,  who  was  on 
the  tiptoe  of  expectation  as  to  what  was  coming,  saw  the 
curate  give  a  slight  shrug  with  his  shoulders  and  lift  of 
his  eyebrows  as  he  left  the  reading-desk,  and  in  another 
minute  it  became  a  painful  effort  for  her  to  keep  from 
laughing  as  she  slyly  watched  her  cousin's  face ;  while  the 
gallery  sang  with  vigor  worthy  of  any  cause  or  occa- 
sion, — 

"  On  the  old  lion  He  shall  go, 
The  adder  fell  and  long ; 
On  the  young  lion  tread  also, 
With  dragons  stout  and  strong." 

The  trebles  took  up  the  last  line,  and  repeated,  — 
"  With  dragons  stout  and  strong ;  " 

and  then  the  whole  strength  of  the  gallery  chorused  again, 

"  With  dra-gons  stout  and  strong," 

and  the  bass-viol  seemed  to  her  to  prolong  the  notes  and 
to  gloat  over  them  as  he  droned  them  out,  looking  trium- 
phantly at  the  distant  curate.  Mary  was  thankful  to  kneel 
down  to  compose  her  face.  The  first  trial  was  the  severe 
one,  and  she  got  through  the  second  psalm  much  better ; 
and  by  the  time  Mr.  Walker  had  plunged  fairly  into  his 
sermon  she  was  a  model  of  propriety  and  sedateness  again. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  301 

But  it  was  to  be  a  Sunday  of  adventures.  The  sermon 
had  scarcely  begun  when  there  was  a  stir  down  by  the 
door  at  the  west  end,  and  people  began  to  look  round  and 
whisper.  Presently  a  man  came  softly  up  and  said  some- 
thing to  the  clerk ;  the  clerk  jumped  up  and  whispered  to 
the  curate,  who  paused  for  a  moment  with  a  puzzled  look, 
and,  instead  of  finishing  his  sentence,  said  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  Farmer  Grove's  house  is  on  fire  ! " 

The  curate  probably  anticipated  the  effect  of  his  words  ; 
in  a  minute  he  was  the  only  person  left  in  the  church  ex- 
cept the  clerk  and  one  or  two  very  infirm  old  folk.  He 
shut  up  and  pocketed  his  sermon,  and  followed  his  flock. 

It  proved  luckily  to  be  only  Farmer  Grove's  chimney 
and  not  his  house  which  was  on  fire.  The  farmhouse  was 
only  two  fields  from  the  village,  and  the  congregation 
rushed  across  there,  Harry  Winburn  and  two  or  three  of 
the  most  active  young  men  and  boys  leading.  As  they 
entered  the  yard  the  flames  were  rushing  out  of  the  chim- 
ney, and  any  moment  the  thatch  might  take  fire.  Here 
was  the  real  danger.  A  ladder  had  just  been  reared 
against  the  chimney,  and,  while  a  frightened  farm-girl  and 
a  carter-boy  held  it  at  the  bottom,  a  man  was  going  up  it 
carrying  a  bucket  of  water.  It  shook  with  his  weight, 
and  the  top  was  slipping  gradually  along  the  face  of  the 
chimney,  and  in  another  moment  would  rest  against  noth- 
ing. Harry  and  his  companions  saw  the  danger  at  a 
glance,  and  shouted  to  the  man  to  stand  still  till  they  could 
get  to  the  ladder.  They  rushed  towards  him  with  the 
rush  which  men  can  only  make  under  strong  excitement ; 
but  the  foremost  of  them  caught  a  spoke  with  one  hand, 
.and,  before  he  could  steady  it,  the  top  slipped  clear  of  the 
chimney,  and  ladder,  man,  and  bucket,  came  heavily  to  the 
ground. 

Then  cam  3  a  scene  of  bewildering  confusion,  as  women 
26 


302  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

and  children  trooped  into  the  yard  —  "Who  was  it?" 
"Was  he  dead?"  "The  fire  was  catching  the  thatch." 
"  The  stables  were  on  fire."  "  Who  done  it?"  —  all  sorts 
of  cries,  and  all  sorts  of  acts  except  the  right  ones.  For- 
tunately, two  or  three  of  the  men,  with  heads  on  their 
shoulders,  soon  organized  a  line  for  handing  buckets ;  the 
flue  was  stopped  below,  and  Harry  Winburn,  standing 
nearly  at  the  top  of  the  ladder,  which  was  now  safely 
planted,  was  deluging  the  thatch  round  the  chimney  from 
the  buckets  handed  up  to  him.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was 
able  to  pour  water  down  the  chimney  itself,  and  soon 
afterwards  the  whole  affair  was  at  an  end.  The  farmer's 
dinner  was  spoilt,  but  otherwise  no  damage  had  been  done, 
except  to  the  clothes  of  the  foremost  men ;  and  the  only 
accident  was  that  first  fall  from  the  ladder. 

The  man  had  been  carried  out  of  the  yard  while  the 
fire  was  still  burning  ;  so  that  it  was  hardly  known  wl^o  it 
was.  Now,  in  answer  to  their  inquiries,  it  proved  to  be 
old  Simon,  the  rector's  gardener  and  head  man,  who  had 
seen  the  fire,  and  sent  the  news  to  the  church,  while 
he  himself  went  to  the  spot,  with  such  result  as  we  have 
seen. 

The  surgeon  had  not  yet  seen  him.  Some  declared  he 
was  dead ;  others,  that  he  was  sitting  up  at  home,  and 
quite  well.  Little  by  little  the  crowd  dispersed  to  Sun- 
day's dinners ;  and,  when  they  met  again  before  the  after- 
noon's service,  it  was  ascertained  that  Simon  was  certainly 
not  dead,  but  all  else  was  still  nothing  more  than  rumor. 
Public  opinion  was  much  divided,  some  holding  that  it 
would  go  hard  with  a  man  of  his  age  and  heft ;  but  the 
common  belief  seemed  to  be  that  he  was  of  that  sort  "  as'd 
take  a  deal  o'  killin', "  and  that  he  would  be  none  the 
worse  for  such  a  fall  asnhat. 

The  two  young  ladies  had  been  much  shocked  at  the 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  303 

accident,  and  had  accompanied  the  hurdle  on  which  old 
Simon  was  carried  to  his  cottage  door;  after  afternoon 
service  they  went  round  by  the  cottage  to  inquire.  The 
two  girls  knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  his 
wife,  who  dropped  a  courtesy  and  smoothed  down  her  Sun- 
day apron  when  she  found  who  were  her  visitors. 

She  seemed  at  first  a  little  unwilling  to  let  them  in  ;  but 
Miss  Winter  pressed  so  kindly  to  see  her  husband,  and 
Mary  made  such  sympathizing  eyes  at  her,  that  the  old 
woman  gave  in,  and  conducted  her  through  the  front  room 
into  that  beyond,  where  the  patient  lay. 

"  I  hope  as  you'll  excuse  it,  miss,  for  I  knows  the  place 
do  smell  terrible  bad  of  baccer;  only  my  old  man  he  said 
as  how  — " 

"  Oh,  never  mind ;  we  don't  care  at  all  about  the  smell- 
Poor  Simon!  I'm  sure  if  it  does  him  any  good,  or 
soothes  the  pain,  I  shall  be  glad  to  buy  him  some  tobacco 
myself." 

The  old  man  was  lying  on  the  bed  with  his  coat  and 
boots  off,  and  a  worsted  nightcap  of  his  wife's  knitting 
pulled  on  to  his  head.  She  had  tried  hard  to  get  him  to 
go  to  bed  at  once,  and  take  some  physic,  and  his  present 
costume  and  position  was  the  compromise.  His  back  was 
turned  to  them  as  they  entered,  and  he  was  evidently  in 
pain,  for  he  drew  his  breath  heavily  and  with  difficulty, 
and  gave  a  sort  of  groan  at  every  respiration.  He  did 
not  seem  to  notice  their  entrance ;  so  his  wife  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "  Simon,  here's  the  young 
ladies  come  to  see  how  you  be." 

Simon  turned  himself  round,  and  winced  and  groaned 
as  he  pulled  off  his  nightcap  in  token  of  respect. 

"  We  didn't  like  to  go  home  without  coming  to  see  how 
you  were,  Simon.     Has  the  doctor  been  ?  " 


504  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  Oh,  yes,  thank'ee,  miss.  He've  a  been  and  feel'd  un 
all  over,  and  listened  at  the  chest  on  un,"  said  his  wife. 

"And  what  did  he  say?" 

"A  zem'd  to  zay  as  there  wur  no  bwones  bruk  —  ugh, 
ugh,"  put  in  Simon,  who  spoke  his  native  tongue  with  a 
buzz,  imported  from  further  west,  "but  a  couldn't  zay 
wether  or  no  there  warn't  some  infarnal  injury — " 

"  Etarnal,  Simon,  etarnal ! "  interrupted  his  wife ;  "  how 
canst  use  such  words  afore  the  young  ladies?" 

"  I  tell'ee,  wife,  as  'twur  infarnal  —  ugh,  ugh,"  retorted 
the  gardener. 

"  Internal  injury  ?  "  suggested  Miss  Winter.  "I'm  very 
sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  Zummat  inside  o'  me  like,  as  wur  got  out  o'  place," 
explained  Simon ;  "  and  I  thenks  a  must  be  near  about 
the  mark,  for  I  feels  mortal  bad  here  when  I  tries  to 
move ; "  and  he  put  his  hand  on  his  side.  "  Hows'm'ever, 
as  there's  no  bwones  bruk,  I  hopes  to  be  about  to-morrow 
mornin',  please  the  Lord  —  ugh,  ugh  ! " 

"  You  mustn't  think  of  it,  Simon,"  said  Miss  Winter. 
"  You  must  be  quite  quiet  for  a  week,  at  least,  till  you  get 
rid  of  this  pain." 

"  So  I  tells  un,  Miss  Winter,"  put  in  the  wife.  "  You 
hear  what  the  young  missus  says,  Simon  ?  " 

"  And  wut's  to  happen  Tiny  ?  "  said  the  contumacious 
Simon,  scornfully.  "  Her'll  cast  her  calf,  and  me  not  by. 
Her's  calving  may  be  this  minut.  Tiny's  time  wur  up, 
miss,  two  days  back,  and  her's  never  no  gurt  while  arter 
her  time." 

"  She  will  do  very  well,  I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Winter. 
"  One  of  the  men  can  look  after  her." 

The  notion  of  any  one  else  attending  Tiny  in  her  inter- 
esting situation  seemed  to  excite  Simon  beyond  bearing: 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD  305 

for  lie  raised  himself  on  one  elbow,  and  was  about  to  make 
a  demonstration  with  his  other  hand,  when  the  pain  seized 
him  again,  and  he  sank  back  groaning. 

„"  There  you  see,  Simon,  you  can't  move  without  pain. 
You  must  be  quiet  till  you  have  seen  the  doctor  again." 

"  There's  the  red  spider  out  along  the  south  wall  —  ugh, 
ugh,"  persisted  Simon,  without  seeming  to  hear  her ;  "  and 
your  new  g'raniums  a'most  covered  wi'  blight.  I  wur  a 
tacklin',  one  on  'em  just  afore  you  come  in." 

Following  the  direction  indicated  by  his  nod,  the  girls 
became  aware  of  a  plant  by  his  bedside,  which  he  had 
been  fumigating,  for  his  pipe  was  leaning  against  the 
flower-pot  in  which  it  stood. 

"  He  wouldn't  lie  still  nohow,  miss,"  explained  his  wife, 
"  till  I  went  and  fetched  un  in  a  pipe  and  one  o'  thaay 
plants  from  the  greenhouse." 

"It  was  very  thoughtful  of  you,  Simon,"  said  Miss 
"Winter ;  "  you  know  how  much  I  prize  these  new  plants ; 
but  we  will  manage  them  ;  and  you  mustn't  think  of  these 
things  now.  You  have  had  a  wonderful  escape  to-day  for 
a  man  of  your  age.  I  hope  we  shall  find  that  there  is 
nothing  much  the  matter  with  you  after  a  few  days,  but 
you  might  have  been  killed,  you  know.  You  ought  to  be 
very  thankful  to  God  that  you  were  not  killed  in  that 
fall." 

"  So  I  be,  miss,  weriy  thankful  to  un  —  ugh,  ugh;  and 
if  it  plaase  the  Lord  to  spare  my  life  till  to-morrow 
morn  in',  —  ugh,  ugh,  —  we'll  smoke  them  cussed  insects." 

This  last  retort  of  the  incorrigible  Simon  on  her  cousin's 
attempt,  as  the  rector's  daughter,  to  improve  the  occasion, 
was  too  much  for  Miss  Mary,  and  she  slipped  out  of  the 
room  lest  she  should  bring  disgrace  on  herself  by  an 
explosion  of  laughter.  She  was  joined  by  her  cousin  in 
26* 


806  TOJI   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

another  minute,  and  the  two  walked  together  towards  the 
rectory. 

"  I  hope  you  were  not  faint,  dear,  with  that  close  room, 
smelling  of  smoke  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ;  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  was  only  afraid 
of  laughing  at  your  quaint  old  patient.  "What  a  rugged 
old  dear  it  is.     I  hope  he  isn't  much  hurt." 

"  I  hope  not,  indeed ;  for  he  is  the  most  honest,  faithful 
old  servant  in  the  world,  but  so  obstinate.  He  never  will 
go  to  church  on  Sunday  mornings ;  and,  when  I  speak  to 
him  about  it,  he  says  papa  doesn't  go,  which  is  very  wrong 
and  impertinent  of  him." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   PROMISE    OF   FAIRER   WEATHER. 

All  dwellers  in  and  about  London  are,  alas,  too  well 
acquainted  with  that  never-to-be-enough-hated  change 
which  we  have  to  undergo  once  at  least  in  every  spring 
As  each  succeeding  winter  wears  away,  the  same  thing 
happens  to  us. 

For  some  time  we  do  not  trust  the  fair,  lengthening  days, 
and  cannot  believe  that  the  dirty  pair  of  sparrows  who  live 
opposite  our  window  are  really  making  love  and  going  to 
build,  notwithstanding  all  their  twittering.  But  morning 
after  morning  rises  fre'sh  and  gentle ;  there  is  no  longer 
any  vice  in  the  air  ;  we  drop  our  overcoats ;  we  rejoice  in 
the  green  shoots  which  the  privet  hedge  is  making  in  the 
square  garden,  and  hail  the  returning  tender-pointed  leaves 
of  the  plane  trees  as  friends ;  we  go  out  of  our  way  to  walk 
througji  Covent  Garden  market  to  see  the  ever-brighten- 
ing show  of  flowers  from  the  happy  country. 

This  state  of  things  goes  on  sometimes  for  a  few  days 
only,  sometimes  for  weeks,  till  we  make  sure  that  we  are 
safe  for  this  spring,  at  any  rate.  Don't  we  wish  we  may 
get  it !  Sooner  or  later,  but  sure  —  sure  as  Christmas 
bills,  or  the  income-tax,  or  any  thing,  if  there  be  any 
thing,  surer  than  these  —  comes  the  morning  when  we  are 
suddenly  conscious  as  soon  as  we  rise  that  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter.  We  do  not  feel  comfortable  in  our 
clothes ;  nothing  tastes  quite  as  it  should  at  breakfast ; 
though  the  day  looks  bright  enough,  there  is  a  fierce,  dusty 


808  TOM   BEOWN   AT    OXFORD. 

taint  about  it,  as  we  look  out  through  window?,  which  no 
instinct  now  prompts  us  to  throw  open,  as  it  has  done  every 
day  for  the  last  month. 

But  it  is  only  when  we  open  our  doors  and  issue  into 
the  street,  that  the  hateful  reality  comes  right  home  to  us. 
All  moisture,  and  softness,  and  pleasantness  has  gone  clean 
out  of  the  air  since  last  night;  we  seem  to  inhale  yards  of 
horsehair  instead  of  satin ;  our  skins  dry  up  ;  our  eyes,  and 
hair,  and  whiskers,  and  clothes  are  soon  filled  with  loath- 
some dust,  and  our  nostrils  with  the  reek  of  the  great  city. 
"We  glance  at  the  weathercock  on  the  nearest  steeple  and 
see  that  it  points  N.E.  And  so  long  as  the  change  lasts 
wo  carry  about  with  us  a  feeling  of  anger  and  impatience 
as  though  we  personally  were  being  ill-treated.  We  could 
have  borne  with  it  well  enough  in  November;  it  would 
have  been  natural,  and  all  in  the  day's  work,  in  March ; 
but  now,  when  Rottenrow  is  beginning  to  be  crowded, 
when  long  lines  of  pleasure-vans  are  leaving  town  on  Mon- 
day mornings  for  Hampton  Court,  or  the  poor  remains  of 
dear  Epping  Forest,  when  the  exhibitions  are  open  or 
about  to  open,  when  the  religious  public  is  up,  or  on  its 
way  up,  for  May  meetings,  when  the  Thames  is  already 
sending  up  faint  warnings  of  what  we  may  expect,  as  soon 
as  his  dirty  old  life's  blood  shall  have  been  thoroughly 
warmed  up,  and  the  Ship,  and  Trafalgar,  and  Star  and 
Garter  are  in  full  swing  at  the  antagonist  poles  of  the 
cockney  system,  we  do  feel  that  this  blight  which  has  come 
over  us  and  every  thing  is  an  insult,  and  that  while  it  lasts, 
as  there  is  nobody  who  can  be  made  particularly  responsi- 
ble for  it,  we  are  justified  in  going  about  in  general  dis- 
gust, and  ready  to  quarrel  with  anybody  we  may  meet  on 
the  smallest  pretext. 

This  sort  of  east-windy  state  is  perhaps  the  best  physi- 
cal aralogy  for  that  mental  one  in  which  our  hero  now 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  S09 

foand  himself.  The  real  crisis  was  over ;  he  had  managed 
to  pass  through  the  eye  of  the  storm,  and  drift  for  the 
present  at  least  into  the  skirts  of  it,  where  he  lav  rolling 
under  bare  poles,  comparatively  safe,  but  without  any 
power  as  yet,  to  get  the  ship  well  in  hand,  and  make  her 
obey  her  helm.  The  storm  might  break  over  him  again 
at  any  minute,  and  would  find  him  almost  as  helpless  a 
eTer. 

For  he  could  not  follow  Drysdale's  advice  at  once,  and 
break  off  his  visits  to  "  The  Choughs "  altogether.  He 
wont  back  again  after  a  day  or  two,  but  only  for  short 
visits ;  he  never  stayed  behind  now  after  the  other  men 
left  the  bar,  and  avoided  interviews  with  Patty  alone  as 
diligently  as  he  had  sought  them  before.  She  was  puz- 
zled at  his  change  of  manner,  and,  not  being  able  to  account 
for  it,  was  piqued,  and  ready  to  revenge  herself  and  pay 
him  out  in  the  hundred  little  ways  which  the  least  prac- 
tised of  her  sex  know  how  to  employ  for  the  discipline  of 
any  of  the  inferior  or  trousered  half  of  the  creation.  If 
she  had  been  really  in  love  with  him,  it  would  have  been 
a  different  matter ;  but  she  was  not.  In  the  last  six  weeks 
she  had  certainly  often  had  visions  of  the  pleasures  of 
being  a  lady  and  keeping  servants,  and  riding  in  a  car- 
riage like  the  squires'  and  rectors'  wives  and  daughters 
about  her  home.  She  had  a  liking,  even  a  sentiment  for 
him,  which  might  very  well  have  grown  into  something 
dangerous  before  long ;  but  as  yet  it  was  not  more  than 
skin  deep.  Of  late,  indeed,  she  had  been  much  more 
frightened  than  attracted  by  the  conduct  of  her  admirer, 
and  really  felt  it  a  relief,  notwithstanding  her  pique,  when 
he  retired  into  the  elder-brother  sort  of  state.  But  she 
would  have  been  more  than  woman  if  she  had  not  resented 
the  change  ;  and  so,  very  soon,  the  pangs  of  jealousy  were 
added  to  his  other  troubles.     Other  men  were  beginning 


810  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

to  frequent  "  The  Choughs  "  regularly.  Drysdale,  besides 
dividing  with  Tom  the  prestige  of  being  an  original  dis- 
coverer, was  by  far  the  largest  customer.  St.  Cloud  came 
and  brought  Chanter  with  him,  to  whom  Patty  was  actu- 
ally civil,  not  because  she  liked  him  at  all,  but  because  she 
saw  that  it  made  Tom  furious.  Though  he  could  not  fix 
on  any  one  man  in  particular,  he  felt  that  mankind  in  gen- 
eral were  gaining  on  him.  In  his  better  moments  indeed 
he  often  wished  that  she  would  take  the  matter  into  her 
own  hands  and  throw  him  over  for  good  and  all;  but  keep 
away  from  the  place  altogether  he  could  not,  and  often, 
when  he  fancied  himself  on  the  point  of  doing  it,  a  pretty 
toss  of  her  head,  or  kind  look  of  her  eyes,  would  scatter  all 
his  good  resolutions  to  the  four  winds. 

And  so  the  days  dragged  on,  and  he  dragged  on  through 
them ;  hot  fits  of  conceit  alternating  in  him  with  cold  fits 
of  despondency  and  mawkishness  and  discontent  with  every 
thing  and  everybody,  which  were  all  the  more  intolerable 
from  their  entire  strangeness.  Instead  of  seeing  the  bright 
side  of  all  things,  he  seemed  to  be  looking  at  creation 
through  yellow  spectacles,  and  saw  faults  and  blemishes  in 
all  his  acquaintance  which  had  been  till  now  invisible. 

But,  the  more  he  was  inclined  to  depreciate  all  other 
men,  the  more  he  felt  that  there  was  one  to  whom  he  had 
been  grossly  unjust.  And,  as  he  recalled  all  that  had 
passed,  he  began  to  do  justice  to  the  man  who  had  not 
flinched  from  warning  him  and  braving  him,  who  he  felt 
had  been  watching  over  him,  and  trying  to  guide  him 
straight  when  he  had  lost  all  power  or  will  to  keep  straight 
Limself. 

From  this  time  the  dread  increased  on  him,  lest  any 
of  the  other  men  should  find  out  his  quarrel  with  Hardy. 
Their  utter  ignorance  of  it  encouraged  him  in  the  hopa 
that  it  might  all  pass  off  like  a  bad  dream.     "While  it  re* 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  311 

mained  a  matter  between  them  alone,  he  felt  that  all  might 
come  straight,  though  he  could  not  think  how.  He  began 
to  loiter  by  the  entrance  of  the  passage  which  led  to 
Hardy's  rooms ;  sometimes  he  would  find  something  to  say 
to  iris  scout  or  bedmaker  which  took  him  into  the  back 
regions  outside  Hardy's  window,  glancing  at  it  sideways  as 
he  stood  giving  his  orders.  There  it  was,  wide  open,  gen- 
erally—  he  hardly  knew  whether  he  hoped  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  owner,  but  he  did  hope  that  Hardy  might 
hear  his  voice.  He  watched  him  in  chapel  and  hall  fur- 
tively, but  constantly,  and  was  always  fancying  what  he 
was  doing  and  thinking  about.  "Was  it  as  painful  an  effort 
to  Hardy,  he  wondered,  as  to  him  to  go  on  speaking;  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  when  they  met  at  the  boats,  as  they 
did  now  again  almost  daily  (for  Diogenes  was  bent  on 
training  some  of  the  torpids  for  next  year),  and  yet  never 
to  look  one  another  in  the  face  ;  to  live  together  as  usual 
during  part  of  every  day,  and  yet  to  feel  all  the  time  that 
a  great  wall  had  arisen  between  them,  more  hopelessly  di- 
viding them  for  the  time,  than  thousands  of  miles  of  ocean 
or  continent? 

Amongst  other  distractions  which  Tom  tried  at  this 
crisis  of  his  life,  was  reading.  For  three  or  four  days 
running  he  really  worked  hard,  —  very  hard,  if  we  were 
to  reckon  by  the  number  of  hours  he  spent  in  his  own 
rooms  over  his  books  with  his  oak  sported,  —  hard,  even 
though  we  should  only  reckon  by  results.  For,  though 
scarcely  an  hour  passed  that  he  was  not  balancing  on  the 
l.ind  legs  of  his  chair  with  a  vacant  look  in  his  eyes,  and 
thinking  of  any  thing  but  Greek  roots  or  Latin  construc- 
tions, yet  on  the  whole  he  managed  to  get  through  a  good 
deal,  and  one  evening,  for  the  first  time  since  his  quarrel 
with  Hardy,  felt  a  sensation  of  real  comfort — it  hardly 
amounted  to  pleasure  —  as  he  closed  his  Sophocles  some 


312  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

hour  or  so  after  hall,  having  just  finished  the  last  of  the 
Greek  plays  which  he  meant  to  take  in  for  his  first  exam- 
ination. He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  sat  for  a  few 
minutes,  letting  his  thoughts  follow  their  own  bent.  They 
soon  took  to  going  wrong,  and  he  jumped  up  in  fear  lest 
he  should  be  drifting  back  into  the  black,  stormy  sea  in  the 
trough  of  which  he  had  been  laboring  so  lately,  and  which 
he  felt  he  was  by  no  means  clear  of  yet.  At  first  he 
caught  up  his  cap  and  gown  as  though  he  were  going  out. 
There  was  a  wine  party  at  one  of  his  acquaintance'  rooms  ; 
or  he  could  go  and  smoke  a  cigar  in  the  pool  room,  or  at 
any  one  of  a  dozen  other  places.  On  second  thoughts, 
however,  he  threw  his  academicals  back  on  to  the  sofa,  and 
went  to  his  bookcase.  The  reading  had  paid  so  well  that 
evening  that  he  resolved  to  go  on  with  it.  He  had  no 
particular  object  in  selecting  one  book  more  than  another, 
and  so  took  down  carelessly  the  first  that  came  to  hand. 

It  happened  to  be  a  volume  of  Plato,  and  opened  of  its 
own  accord  in  the  Apology.  He  glanced  at  a  few  lines. 
What  a  flood  of  memories  they  called  up !  This  was 
almost  the  last  book  he  had  read  at  school ;  and  teacher, 
and  friends,  and  lofty  oak-shelved  library,  stood  out  before 
him  at  once.  Then  the  blunders  that  he  himself  and 
others  had  made  rushed  through  his  mind,  and  he  almost 
burst  into  a  laugh  as  he  wheeled  his  chair  round  to  the 
window,  and  began  reading  where  he  had  opened,  en* 
couraging  every  thought  of  the  old  times  when  he  first 
read  that  marvellous  defence,  and  throwing  himself  back 
into  them  with  all  his  might.  And  still,  as  he  read,  for 
gotten  words  of  wise  comment,  and  strange  thoughts  of 
winder  and  longing,  came  back  to  him.  The  great  truth 
which  he  had  been  led  to  the  brink  of  in  those  early  days 
rose  in  all  its  awe  and  all  its  attractiveness  before  him. 
He  leant  back  in  his  chair,  and  gave  himself  up  to  hia 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  313 

thought ;  and  how  strangely  that  thought  bore  on  the  strug- 
gle which  had  been  raging  in  him  of  late  ;  how  an  answer 
seemed  to  be  trembling  to  come  out  of  it  to  all  the  cries, 
now  defiant,  now  plaintive,  which  had  gone  up  out  of  his 
heart  in  this  time  of  trouble!  For  his  thought  was  of  that 
spirit,  distinct  from  himself,  and  yet  communing  with  his 
inmost  soul,  always  dwelling  in  him,  knowing  him  better 
than  he  knew  himself,  never  misleading  him,  always  lead- 
ing him  to  light  and  truth,  of  which  the  old  philosopher 
spoke.  "  The  old  heathen,  Socrates,  did  actually  believe 
that — there  can  be  no  question  about  it;"  he  thought. 
"  Has  not  the  testimony  of  the  best  men  through  these  two 
thousand  years  borne  witness  that  he  was  right  —  that  he 
did  not  believe  a  lie?  That  was  what  we  were  told. 
Surely,  I  don't  mistake  !  Were  we  not  told,  too,  or  did  I 
dream  it,  that  what  was  true  for  him  is  true  for  every 
man  —  for  me  ?  That  there  is  a  spirit  dwelling  in  me, 
striving  with  me,  ready  to  lead  me  into  all  truth  if  I  will 
submit  to  his  guidance  ?  " 

"  Ay !  submit,  submit,  there's  the  rub  !  Give  yourself 
up  to  his  guidance  !  Throw  up  the  reins,  and  say,  you've 
made  a  mess  of  it.  Well,  why  not  ?  Haven't  I  made  a 
mess  of  it  ?     Am  I  fit  to  hold  the  reins  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  he  got  up  and  began  walking  about  his  rooms, 
* 1  give  it  up." 

"  Give  it  up ! "  he  went  on,  presently ;  "  yes,  but  to 
whom  ?  Not  to  the  demon,  spirit,  whatever  it  was,  who 
took  up  his  abode  in  the  old  Athenian  —  at  least  so  he 
said,  and  so  I  believe.  No,  no!  Two  thousand  year? 
and  all  that  they  have  seen  have  not  passed  over  the  world 
to  leave  us  just  where  he  was  left.  We  want  no  demons 
or  spirits.  And  yet  the  old  heathen  was  guided  right,  and 
what  can  a  man  want  more ?  and  who  ever  wanted  guid- 
ance more  than  I  now  —  here  —  in  this  r^om  —  at  thia 
27 


f»14  TOM   EEOWN   AT    OXFORD. 

minute?  I  give  up  the  reins;  who  will  take  them?* 
And  so  there'  came  on  him  one  of  those  seasons  when  a 
man's  thoughts  cannot  be  followed  in  words.  A  sense  of 
awe  came  on  him,  and  over  him,  and  wrapped  him  round  ; 
awe  at  a  presence  of  which  he  was  becoming  suddenly 
conscious,  into  which  he  seemed  to  have  wandered,  and  yet 
which  he  felt  must  have  been  there,  around  him,  in  his 
own  heart  and  soul,  though  he  knew  it  not.  There  was 
hope  and  longing  in  his  heart  mingling  with  the  fear  of 
that  presence,  but  withal  the  old  reckless  and  daring'  feel- 
ing which  he  knew  so  well,  still  bubbling  up  untamed, 
untamable  it  seemed  to  him. 

The  room  stifled  him  now  ;  so  he  threw  on  his  cap  and 
grown,  and  hurried  down  into  the  quadrangle.  It  was 
very  quiet;  probably  there  were  not  a  dozen  men  in 
college.  He  walked  across  to  the  low,  dark  entrance  of 
the  passage  which  led  to  Hardy's  rooms,  and  there  paused. 
"Was  he  there  by  chance,  or  was  he  guided  there  ?  Yes, 
this  was  the  right  way  for  him,  he  had  no  doubt  now  as  to 
that ;  down  the  dark  passage,  and  into  the  room  he  knew 
so  well  —  and  what  then  ?  He  took  a  short  turn  or  two 
before  the  entrance.  How  could  he  be  sure  that  Hardy 
was  alone  ?  And,  if  not,  to  go  in  would  be  worse  than 
useless.  If  he  were  alone,  what  should  he  say  ?  After 
all,  must  he  go  in  there  ?  was  there  no  way  but  that  ? 

The  college  clock  struck  a  quarter  to  seven.  It  was  his. 
usual  time  for  "The  Choughs;"  the  house  would  be  quiet 
now ;  was  there  not  one  looking  out  for  him  there  who 
would  be  grieved  if  he  did  not  come  ?  After  all,  might 
cot  that  be  his  way,  for  this  night  at  least  ?  He  might 
bring  pleasure  to  one  human  being  by  going  there  at  once. 
That  lie  knew ;  what  else  could  he  be  sure  of? 

At  this  moment  he  heard  Hardy's  door  open,  and  a 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  315 

Voice  saying,  "Good-night,"  and  the  next  Grey  came  oui 
of  the  passage,  and  was  passing  close  to  him. 

"Join  yourself  to  him."  The  impulse  came  so  strongly 
into  Tom's  mind  this  time,  that  it  was  like  a  voice  speak- 
ing to  him.  He  yielded  to  it,  and,  stepping  to  Grey's  side, 
wished  him  good-evening.  The  other  returned  his  saluto 
in  his  shy  way,  and  was  hurrying  on,  but  Tom  kept  by 
him. 

"  Have  you  been  reading  with  Hardy  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  How  is  he  ?  I  have  not  seen  any  thing  of  him  for 
some  time." 

"  Oh,  very  well,  I  think,"  said  Grey,  glancing  sideways 
at  his  questioner,  and  adding,  after  a  moment,  "I  have 
wondered  rather  not  to  see  you  there  of  late." 

"  Are  you  going  to  your  school  ?  "  said  Tom,  breaking 
away  from  the  subject. 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  rather  late ;  I  must  make  haste  on ; 
good-night." 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  with  you  to-night  ?  It  would  be  a 
real  kindness.  Indeed,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  how  embar- 
rassing his  proposal  was  to  Grey,  "  I  will  do  whatever  you 
tell  me  —  you  don't  know  how  grateful  I  shall  be  to  you. 
Do  let  me  go  — just  for  to-night.     Try  me  once." 

Grey  hesitated,  turned  his  head  sharply  once  or  twice 
as  they  walked  on  together,  and  then  said,  with  something 
like  a  sigh  — 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Did  you  ever  teach  in  a 
night-school  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  have  taught  in  the  Sunday-school  at  home 
sometimes.     Indeed,  I  will  do  whatever  you  tell  me." 

"  Oh !  but  this  is  not  at  all  like  a  Sunday-school.  They 
are  a  very  rough,  wild  lot." 


816  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"The  rougher  the  better/- said  Tom;>'I  shall  know 
how  to  manage  them  then." 

"  But  you  must  not  really  be  rough  with  them." 

"  No,  I  wont ;  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Tom,  hastily, 
for  he  saw  his  mistake  at  once.  "  I  shall  take  it  as  a 
great  favor,  if  you  will  let  me  go  to-night.  You  wont  re- 
pent it,  I'm  sure." 

Grey  did  not  seem  at  all  sure  of  this,  but  saw  no  means 
of  getting  rid  of  his  companion,  and  so  they  walked  on 
together  and  turned  down  a  long,  narrow  court  in  the 
lowest  part  of  the  town.  At  the  doors  of  the  houses 
laboring  men,  mostly  Irish,  lounged  or  stood  about,  smok- 
ing and  talking  to  one  another,  or  to  the  women  who  leant 
out  of  the  windows,  or  passed  to  and  fro  on  their  various 
errands  of  business  or  pleasure.  A  group  of  half-grown 
lads  were  playing  at  pitch-farthing  at  the  further  end,  and 
all  over  the  court  were  scattered  children  of  all  ages, 
ragged  and  noisy  little  creatures  most  of  them,  on  whom 
paternal  and  maternal  admonitions  and  cuffs  were  con- 
stantly being  expended,  and;  to  all  appearances,  in  vain. 

At  the  sight  of  Grey  a  shout  arose  amongst  the  smaller 
boys,  of  "  Here's  the  teacher ! "  and  they  crowded  round 
him  and  Tom  as  they  went  up  the  court.  Several  of  the 
men  gave  him  a  half-surly,  half-respectful  nod,  as  he  passed 
along,  wishing  them  good-evening.  The  rest  merely 
stared  at  him  and  his  companion.  They  stopped  at  a  door 
which  Grey  opened,  and  led  the  way  into  the  passage  of 
an  old  tumble-down  cottage,  on  the  ground-floor  of  which 
were  two  low  rooms  which  served  for  the  schoolrooms. 

A  hard-featured,  middle-aged  woman,  who  kept  the 
house,  was  waiting,  and  said  to  Grey,  "  Mr.  Jones  told  me 
to  say,  sir,  he  would  not  be  here  to-night,  as  he  has  got  a 
b  id  fev  3r  case  —  so  you  was  to  take  only  the  lower  classes 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  317 

eir,  he  said ;  and  the  policeman  would  be  near  to  keep  out 
the  big  boys,  if  you  wanted  him ;  shall  I  go  and  tell  him 
to  step  round,  cir  ?  " 

Grey  looked  embarrassed  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,, 
"  No,  never  mind,  you  can  go  ; "  and  then  turning  to  Tom, 
added,  "  Jones  is  the  curate ;  he  wont  be  here  to-night ; 
and  some  of  the  bigger  boys  are  very  noisy  and  trouble- 
some, and  Qnly  come  to  make  a  noise.  However,  if  they 
come,  we  must  do  our  best." 

Meantime,  the  crowd  of  small  ragged  urchins  had  filled 
the  room,  and  were  swarming  on  to  the  benches  and 
squabbling  for  the  copy-books  which  were  laid  out  on  the 
thin  desks.  Grey  set  to  work  to  get  them  into  order,  and 
soon  the  smallest  were  draughted  off  into  the  inner  room 
with  slates  and  spelling-books,  and  the  bigger  ones,  some 
dozen  in  number,  settled  to  their  writing.  Tom  seconded 
him  so  readily,  and  seemed  so  much  at  home,  that  Grey 
felt  quite  relieved/ 

"  You  seem  to  get  on  capitally,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  go  into 
the  inner  room  to  the  little  ones,  and  you  stay  and  take 
these.  There  are  the  class-books  when  they  have  done 
their  copies,"  and  so  went  off  into  the  inner  room  and 
closed  the  door. 

My  readers  must  account  for  the  fact  as  they  please ;  I 
only  state  that  Tom,  as  he  bent  over  one  after  another  of 
the  pupils,  and  guided  the  small,  grubby  hands,  which 
clutched  the  inky  pens  with  cramped  fingers,  and  went 
spluttering  and  blotching  along  the  lines  of  the  copy-books, 
felt  the  yellow  scales  dropping  from  his  eyes,  and  more 
warmth  coming  back  into  his  heart  than  he  had  knowu 
there  for  many  a  day. 

All  went  on  well  inside,  notwithstanding  a  few  small 
outbreaks  between  the  scholars,  but  every  now  and  then 
mud  was  thrown  against  the  window,  and  noises  outsido 
27* 


8.18  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

and  in  the  passage  threatened  some  interruption.  At  lust, 
when  the  writing  was  finished,  the  copy-books  cleared 
away,  and  the  class-books  distributed,  the  door  opened, 
and  two  or  three  big  boys  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  lounged  in, 
with  their  hands  in  their  pockets  and  their  caps  on.  There 
was  an  insolent  look  about  them  which  set  Tom's  back  up 
at  once ;  however,  he  kept  his  temper,  made  them  take 
their  caps  off,  and,  as  they  said  they  wanted  to.  read  with 
the  rest,  let  them  take  their  places  on  the  benches. 

But  now  came  the  tug  of  war.  He  could  not  keep  his 
eyes  on  the  whole  lot  at  once,  and,  no  sooner  did  he  fix 
his  attention  on  the  stammering  reader  for  the  time  being 
and  try  to  help  him,  than  anarchy  broke  out  all  round 
him.  Small  stones  and  shot  were  thrown  about,  and  cries 
arose  from  the  smaller  fry,  "  Please,  sir,  he's  been  and 
poured  some  ink  down  my  back,"  "  He's  stole  my  book, 
sir,"  "  He's  gone  and  stuck  a  pin  in  my  leg."  The  evil- 
doers were  so  cunning  that  it  was  impossible  to  catch  them ; 
but,  as  he  was  hastily  turning  in  his  own  mind  what  to  do, 
a  cry  arose,  and  one  of  the  benches  went  suddenly  over 
backwards  on  to  the  floor,  carrying  with  it  its  whole  freight 
of  boys,  except  two  of  the  bigger  ones,  who  were  the  evi- 
dent authors  of  the  mishap. 

Tom  sprang  at  the  one  nearest  him,  seized  him  by  the 
collar,  hauled  him  into  the  passage,  and  sent  him  out  of 
the  street-door  with  a  sound  kick  ;  and  then,  rushing  back, 
caught  hold  of  the  second,  who  went  down  on  his  back 
and  clung  round  Tom's  legs,  shouting  for  help  to  his  re- 
maining companions,  and  struggling  and  swearing.  It  was 
all  the  work  of  a  moment,  and  now  the  door  opened,  and 
Grey  appeared  from  the  inner  room.  Tom  left  off  haul 
ing  his  prize  towards  the  passage,  and  felt  and  looked  very 
foolish. 

"  TWs  fellow,  and  another  whom  I  have  turned  out,  up« 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  319 

set  that  form  with  all  the  little  boys  on  it,"  he  said,  apolo- 
getically. 

"  It's  a  lie ;  'twasn't  me,"  roared  the  captive,  to  whom 
Tom  administered  a  sound  box  on  the  ear,  Avhile  the  small 
boys,  rubbing  different  parts  of  their  bodies,  chorused, 
"'Twas  him,  teacher,  'twas  him,"  and  heaped  further 
charges  of  pinching,  pin-sticking,  and  other  atrocities  on 
him. 

Grey  astonished  Tom  by  his  firmness.  "  Don't  strike 
him  again,"  he  said.  "  Now,  go  out  at  once,  or  I  will  send 
for  your  father."  The  fellow  got  up,  and,  after  standing 
a  moment  and  considering  his  chance  of  successful  resist- 
ance to  physical  force  in  the  person  of  Tom,  and  moral  in 
that  of  Grey,  slunk  out.  "  You  must  go  too,  Murphy," 
went  on  Grey  to  another  of  the  intruders. 

"O  your  honor,  let  me  bide.  I'll  be  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse,"  pleaded  the  Irish  boy ;  and  Tom  would  have  given 
in,  but  Grey  was  unyielding. 

"  You  were  turned  out  last  week,  and  Mr.  Jones  said 
you  were  not  to  come  back  for  a  fortnight." 

"  Well,  good-night  to  your  honor,"  said  Murphy,  and 
took  himself  off. 

"  The  rest  may  stop,"  said  Grey.  "  You  had  better  take 
the  inner  room  now ;  I  will  stay  here." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Tom. 

"  You  couldn't  help  it ;  no  one  can  manage  those  two. 
Murphy  is  quite  different,  but  I  should  have  spoiled  him 
if  I  had  let  him  stay  now." 

The  remaining  half-hour  passed  off  quietly.  Tom  re- 
tired into  the  inner  room,  and  took  up  Grey's  lesson,  which 
he  had  been  reading  to  the  boys  from  a  large  Bible  with 
pictures.  Out  of  consideration  for  their  natural  and  ac- 
quired restlessness,  the  little  fellows,  who  were  all  between 
eight  and  eleven  years  old,  were  only  kept  sitting  at  their 


320  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

pot«hooks  and  spelling  for  the  first  hour,  and  then  wero 
allowed  to  crowd  round  the  teacher,  who  read  and  talked 
to  them,  and  showed  them  the  pictures.  Tom  found  the 
Bible  open  at  the  story  of  the  prodigal  son,  and  read  it 
out  to  them  as  they  clustered  round  his  knees.  Some  of 
the  outside  ones  fidgeted  about  a  little,  but  those  close 
round  3iim  listened  with  ears,  and  eyes,  and  bated  breath  ; 
and  two  little  clue-eyed  boys  without  shoes  —  their  ragged 
clothes  concealed  by  long  pinafores  which  their  widowed 
mother  had  put  on  clean  to  send  them  to  school  in  — 
leaned  against  him  and  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  his  heart 
warmed  to  the  touch  and  the  look.  *"  Please,  teacher,  read 
it  again,"  they  said,  when  he  finished  ;  so  he  read  it  again, 
and  sighed  when  Grey  came  in  and  lighted  a  candle 
(for  the  room  was  getting  dark),  and  said  it  was  time  for 
prayers. 

A  few  collects,  and  the  Lord's  Prayer,  in  which  all  the 
young  voices  joined,  drowning  for  a  minute  the  noises  from 
the  court  outside,  finished  the  evening's  schooling.  The 
children  trooped  out,  and  Grey  went  to  speak  to  the 
woman  who  kept  the  house.  Tom,  left  to  himself,  felt 
strangely  happy,  and,  for  something  to  do,  took  the  snuf- 
fers and  commenced  a  crusade  against  a  large  family  of 
bugs,  who,  taking  advantage  of  the  quiet,  came  cruising 
out  of  a  crack  in  the  otherwise  neatly  papered  wall. 
Some  dozen  had  fallen  on  his  spear  when  Grey  re-ap- 
peared, and  was  much  horrified  at  the  sight.  He  called 
the  woman,  and  told  her  to  have  the  hole  carefully  fumi- 
gated and  mended. 

"  I  thought  we  had  killed  them  all  long  ago,"  he  said ; 
"  but  the  place  is  tumbling  down." 

"  It  looks  well  enough,"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  we  have  it  kept  as  tidy  as  possible.  It  ought  to 
be,  at  least,  a  little  better  than  what  the  children  see  at 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  321 

home."     And  so  they  left  the  school  and  court,  and  walked 
up  to  college. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ? "  Tom  said,  as  they  entered 
the  gate. 
.  *  To  Hardy's  rooms ;  will  you  come  ?  " 

"  No,  not  to-night,"  said  Tom.  "  I  know  that  you  want 
to  be  reading  ;  I  should  only  interrupt." 

"  "Well,  good-night,  then,"  said  Grey,  and  went  on,  leav- 
ing Tom  standing  in  the  porch.  On  the  way  up  from  the 
school  he  had  almost  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Hardy's , 
rooms  that  night.  He  longed,  and  yet  feared  to  do  so ; 
and,  on  the  whole,  was  not  sorry  for  an  excuse.  Their 
first  meeting  must  be  alone,  and  it  would  be  a  very  em- 
barrassing one  for  him,  at  any  rate.  Grey,  he  hoped, 
would  tell  Hardy  of  his  visit  to  the  school,  and  that  would 
show  that  he  was  coming  round,  and  make  the  meeting 
easier.  His  talk  with  Grey,  too,  had  removed  one  great 
cause  of  uneasiness  from  his  mind.  It  was  now  quite 
clear  that  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the  quarrel,  and,  if  Hardy 
had  not  told  him,  no  one  else  could  know  of  it. 

Altogether  he  strolled  into  the  quadrangle  a  happier 
and  sounder  man  than  he  had  been  since  his  first  visit  to 
the  Choughs,  and  looked  up  and  answered  with  his  old 
look  and  voice  when  he  heard  his  name  called  from  one 
of  the  first-floor  windows. 

The  hailer  was  Drysdale,  who  was  leaning  out  in 
lounging  coat  and  velvet  cap,  and  enjoying  a  cigar  as 
usual,  in  the  midst  of  the  flowers  of  his  hanging  garden. 

"You've  heard  the  good  news,  I  suppose?" 

"  No ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  Blake  has  got  the  Latin  verse." 

"  Hurrah !     I'm  so  glad." 

"  Come  up  and  have  a  weed."     Tom  ran  up  the  stair* 


822  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

case  and  into  Drysdale's  rooms,  and  was  leaning  out  of  Ilia 
window  at  his-  side  in  another  minute. 

"  "What  does  he  get  by  it  ?  "  he  said ; '"  do  you  know  ?  n 

"  No ;  some  books  bound  in  Russia,  I  dare  say,  with  the 
Oxford  arms,  and  '  Dominus  illuminatio  mea '  on  the 
back." 

"  No  money  ?  " 

"  Not  much  —  perhaps  a  ten'ner,"  answered  Drysdale, 
*  but  no  end  of  icvdoc,  I  suppose." 

"  It  makes  it  look  well  for  his  first,  don't  you  think  ? 
But  I  wish  he  had  got  some  money  for  it.  I  often  feel 
very  uncomfortable  about  that  bill ;  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  I ;  what's  the  good  ?  It's  nothing  when  you  are 
used  to  it.     Besides,  it  don't  fall  due  for  another  month." 

"  But  if  Blake  can't  meet  it  then  ?  "  said.  Tom. 

"  Well,  it  will  be  vacation,  and  I'll  trouble  greasy  Ben 
jamin  to  catch  me  then." 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  wont  pay  it  ? "  said 
Tom,  in  horror. 

"  Pay  it !  You  may  trust  Benjamin  for  that.  He'll 
pull  round  his  little  usuries  somehow." 

"  Only  we  have  promised  to  pay  on  a  certain  day,  you 
know." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  that's  the  form.  That  only  means  that 
lie  can't  pinch  us  sooner." 

"  I  do  hope,  though,  Drysdale,  that  it  will  be  paid  on 
the  day,"  said  Tom,  who  could  not  quite  swallow  the 
notion  of  forfeiting  his  word,  even  though  it  were  only  a 
promise  to  pay  to  a  scoundrel. 

"  All  right.  You've  nothing  to  do  with  it,  remember. 
He  wont  bother  you.  Besides,  you  can  plead  infancy,  if 
the  worst  comes  to  the  worst.  There's  such  a  queer  old 
bird  gone  to  your  friend  Hardy's  rooms." 

The  mention  of  Hardy  broke  the  disagreeable  train  of 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  82tt 

thought  into  which  Tom  was  falling,  and  he  listened 
eagerly  as  Drysdale  went  on. 

"  It  was  about  half  an  hour  ago.  I  was  looking  out. 
here,  and  saw  an  old  fellow  come  hobbling  into  quad  on 
two  sticks,  in  a  shady  blue  uniform  coat  and  white  trou- 
sers. The  kind  of  old  boy  you  read  about  in  books,  you 
know ;  Commodore  Trunnion,  or  Uncle  Toby,  or  one  of 
that  sort.  Well,  I  watched  him  backing  and  filing  about 
the  quad,  and  trying  one  staircase  and  another ;  but  there 
was  nobody  about.  So  down  I  trotted,  and  went  up  to 
him  for  fun,  and  to  see  what  he  was  after.  It  was  as  good 
as  a  play,  if  you  could  have  seen  it.  I  was  ass  enough  to 
take  off  my  cap  and  make  a  low  bow  as  I  came  up  to  him, 
and  he  pulled  off  his  uniform  cap  in  return,  and  we  stood 
there  bowing  to  one  another.  He  was  a  thorough  old 
gentleman,  and  I  felt  rather  foolish  for  fear  he  should  see 
that  I  expected  a  lark  when  I  came  out.  But  T  don't 
think  he  had  an  idea  of  it,  and  only  set  my  capping  him 
down  to  the  wonderful  good  manners  of  the  college.  So 
we  got  quite  thick,  and  I  piloted  him  across  to  Hardy's 
staircase  in  the  back  quad.  I  wanted  him  to  come  up  and 
quench,  but  he  declined,  with  many  apologies.  I'm  sure 
he  is  a  character." 

"  He  must  be  Hardy's  father,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder.     But  is  his  father  in  the  navy  ?  * 

"  He  is  a  retired  captain." 

"  Then  no  doubt  you're  right.  "What  shall  we  do  ? 
Have  a  hand  at  picquet  ?  Some  men  will  be  here  directly. 
Only  for  love." 

Tom  declined  the  proffered  game,  and  went  off  soon 
after  to  his  own  rooms,  a  happier  man  than  he  had  been 
since  his  first  night  at  the  Choughs. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE     RECONCILIATION. 

Tom  rose  in  the  morning  with  a  presentiment  that  all 
would  be  over  now  before  long,  and,  to  make  his  presenti- 
ment come  true,  resolved,  before  night,  to  go  himself  to 
Hardy  and  give  in.  All  he  reserved  to  himself  was  the 
liberty  to  do  it  in  the  manner  which  would  be  least  pain- 
ful to  himself.  He  was  greatly  annoyed,  therefore,  when 
Hardy  did  not  appear  at  morning  chapel ;  for  he  had  fixed 
on  the  leaving  chapel  as  the  least  unpleasant  time  in 
which  to  begin  his  confession,  and  was  going  to  catch 
Hardy  then,  and  follow  him  to  his  rooms.  All  the  morn- 
ing, too,  in  answer  to  his  inquiries  by  his  scout  Wiggins, 
Hardy's  scout  replied  that  his  master  was  out,  or  busy. 
He  did  not  come  to  the  boats,  he  did  not  appear  in  hall ; 
€0  that,  after  hall,  when  Tom  went  back  to  his  own  rooms, 
as  he  did  at  once,  instead  of  sauntering  out  of  college,  or 
going  to  a  wine  party,  he  was  quite  out  of  heart  at  his  bad 
luck,  and  began  to  be  afraid  that  he  would  have  to  sleep 
on  his  unhealed  wound  another  night. 

He  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair,  and  fell  to  musing,  and 
thought  how  wonderfully  his  life  had  been  changed  in 
these  few  short  weeks.  He  could  hardly  get  back  across 
the  gulf  which  separated  him  from  the  self  who  came  back 
into  those  rooms  after  Easter,  full  of  anticipations  of  the 
pleasures  and  delights  of  the  coming  summer  term  and 
vacation.     To  his  own  surprise  he  didn't  seem  much  to 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  325 

regret  the  loss  of  his  chateaux  en  Espagne,  and  felt  a  soit 
of  grim  satisfaction  in  their  utter  overthrow. 

While  occupied  with  these  thoughts,  he  heard  talking 
on  his  stairs,  accompanied  by  a  strange  lumbering  tread. 
These  came  nearer ;  and  at  last  stopped  just  outside  his 
door,  which  opened  in  another  moment,  and  Wiggins  an- 
nounced, — 

"  Capting  Hardy,  sir." 

Tom  jumped  to  his  legs,  and  felt  himself  color  painfully. 
"  Here,  Wiggins,"  said  he,  "  wheel  round  that  arm-chair 
for  Captain  Hardy.  I  am  so  very  glad  to  see  you,  sir," 
and  he  hastened  round  himself  to  meet  the  old  gentleman, 
holding  out  his  hand,  which  the  visitor  took  very  cordially, 
as  soon  as  he  had  passed  his  heavy  stick  to  his  left  hand, 
and  balanced  himself  safely  upon  it. 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  thank  you,"  said  the  old  man  after  a 
few  moments'  pause,  "J  find  your  companion  "ladders 
rather  steep ; "  and  then  he  sat  down  with  some  difficulty. 

Tom  took  the  captain's  stick  and  undress  cap,  and  put 
them  reverentially  on  his  sideboard ;  and  then,  to  get  rid 
of  some  little  nervousness  which  he  couldn't  help  feeling, 
bustled  to  his  cupboard,  and  helped  Wiggins  to  place 
glasses  and  biscuits  on  the  table.  "  Now,  sir,  what  will 
you  take  ?  I  have  port,  sherry,  and  whiskey  here,  and 
can  get  you  any  thing  else.  Wiggins,  run  to  Hinton's  and 
get  some  dessert." 

"  No  dessert,  thank  you,  for  me,"  said  the  captain ;  "  I'll 
take  a  cup  of  coffee,  or  a  glass  of  grog,  or  any  thing  you 
have  ready.     Don't  open  wine  for  me,  pray,  sir." 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  the  better  for  being  opened,"  said  Tom, 
working  away  at  a  bottle  of  sherry  with  his  corkscrew  — 
"  and,  Wiggins,  get  some  coffee  and  anchovy  toast  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour ;  and  just  put  out  some  tumblers  and 
toddy  ladles,  and  bring  up  boiling  water  with  the  coffee." 
28 


326  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

While  making  his  hospitable  preparations,  Tom  managed 
to  get  many  side-glances  at  the  old  man,  who  sat  looking 
steadily  and  abstractedly  before  him  into  the  fireplace,  and 
was  much  struck  and  touched  by  the  picture.  The  sailor 
wore  a  well-preserved  old  undress  uniform  coat  and  waist- 
coat, and  white  drill  trousers ;  he  was  a  man  of  middle 
height,  but  gaunt  and  massive,  and  Tom  recognized  the 
framework  of  the  long  arms  and  grand  shoulders  and  chest 
which  he  had  so  often  admired  in  the  son.  His  right  leg 
was  quite  stiff  from  an  old  wound  on  the  kneecap  ;  the  left 
eye  was  sightless,  and  the  scar  of  a  cutlass  travelled  down 
the  drooping  lid  and  on  to  the  weather-beaten  cheek  below. 
His  head  was  high  and  broad,  his  hair  and  whiskers  silver 
white,  while  the  shaggy  eyebrows  were  scarcely  grizzled. 
His  face  was  deeply  lined,  and  the  long,  clean-cut  lower 
jaw,  and  drawn  look  about  the  mouth,  gave  a  grim  ex- 
pression to  the  face  at  the  first  glance,  which  wore  off  as 
you  looked,  leaving,  however,  on  most  men  who  thought 
about  it,  the  impression  which  fastened  on  our  hero,  "  An 
awkward  man  to  have  met  at  the  head  of  boarders  towards 
the  end  of  the  great  war." 

In  a  minute  or  two  Tom,  having  completed  his  duties, 
faced  the  old  sailor,  much  re-assured  by  his  covert  inspec- 
tion ;  and,  pouring  himself  out  a  glass  of  sherry,  pushed 
the  decanter  across,  and  drank  to  his  guest. 

"  Your  health,  sir,"  he  said,  "  and  thank  you  very  much 
for  coming  up  to  see  me." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  rousing  himself  and 
filling,  "  I  drink  to  you,  sir.  The  fact  is,  I  took  a  great 
liberty  in  coming  up  to  your  rooms  in  this  off-hand  way, 
without  calling  or  sending  up,  but  you'll  excuse  it  in  an 
old  sailor."  Here  the  captain  took  to  his  glass,  and  seemed 
a  little  embarrassed.  Tom  felt  embarrassed  also,  feel- 
ing that  something  was  coming,  and  could  only  think  of 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  327 

asking  how  the  captain  liked  the  sherry.  The  captain 
liked  the  sherry  very  much.  Then,  suddenly  clearing  his 
throat,  he  went  on.  "  I  felt,  sir,  that  you  would  excuse 
me,  for  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you."  He  paused  again, 
while  Tom  muttered  something  about  great  pleasure,  and 
then  went  on. 

"  You  know  my  son,  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

u  Yes,  sir;  he  has  been  my  best  friend  up  here ;  I  owe 
more  to  him  than  to  any  man  in  Oxford." 

The  captain's  eye  gleamed  with  pleasure  as  he  replied, 
"  Jack  is  a  noble  fellow,  Mr.  Brown,  though  I  say  it,  who 
am  his  father.  I've  often  promised  myself  a  cruize  to 
Oxford  since  he  has  been  here.  I  came  here,  at  last,  yes- 
terday, and  have  been  having  a  long  yarn  with  him.  I 
found  there  was  something  on  his  mind.  He  can't  keep 
any  thing  from  his  old  father:  .and  so  I  drew  out  of  him 
that  he  loves  you  as  David  loved  Jonathan.  He  made 
my  old  eye  very  dim  while  he  was  talking  of  you,  Mr. 
Brown.  And  then  I  found  that  you  two  are  not  as  you 
used  to  be.  Some  coldness  sprung  up  between  you ;  but 
what  about,  I  couldn't  get  at !  Young  men  are  often 
hasty  —  I  know  I  was,  forty  years  ago  —  Jack  says  he 
has  been  hasty  with  you.  Now,  that  boy  is  all  that  I  have 
in  the  world,  Mr.  Brown.  I  know  my  boy's  friend  will 
Like  to  send  an  old  man  home  with  a  light  heart.  So  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  come  over  to  you,  and  ask  you  to 
make  it  up  with  Jack.  I  gave  him  the  slip  after  dinner 
and  here  I  am." 

"  O  sir,  did  he  really  ask  you  to  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  No,,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  "  he  did  not  —  I'm  sorry 
for  it  —  I  think  Jack  must  be  in  the  wrong,  for  he  said  he 
had  been  too  hasty,  and  yet  he  wouldn't  ask  me  to  come 
to  you  and  make  it  up.  But  he  is  young,  sir  ;  young  and 
proud.     He   said  he  couldn't  move  in   it,  his  mind  was 


328  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

made  up ;  he  was  wretched  enough  over  it,  but  -the  move 
mUrjt  come  from  you.  And  so  that's  the  favor  I  have  to 
ask,  that  you  will  make  it  up  with  Jack.  It  isn't  often  a 
young  man  can  do  such  a  favor  to  an  old  one  —  to  an  old 
father  with  one  son.  You'll  not  feel  the  worse  for  having 
done  it,  if  it's  ever  so  hard  to  do,  when  you  come  to  be  my 
age."  And  the  old  man  looked  wistfully  across  the  table, 
the  muscles  about  his  mouth  quivering  as  he  ended. 

Tom  sprang  from  his  chair,  and  grasped  the  old  sailor's 
hand,  as  he  felt  the  load  pass  out  of  his  heart.  "  Favor, 
sir  !  "  he  said,  "  I  have  been  a  mad  fool  enough  already  in 
this  business  —  I  should  have  been  a  double-dyed  scoun- 
drel, like  enough,  by  this  time,  but  for  your  son,  and  I've 
quarrelled  with  him  for  stopping  me  at  the  pit's  mouth. 
Favor !  If  God  will,  I'll  prove  somehow  where  the  favor 
lies,  and  what  I  owe  to  him ;  and  to  you,  sir,  for  coming 
to  me  to-night.  Stop  here  two  minutes,  sir,  and  I'll  run 
down  and  bring  him  over." 

Tom  tore  away  to  Hardy's  door  and  knocked.  There 
was  no  pausing  in  the  passage  now.  "  Come  in."  He 
opened  the  door,  but  did  not  enter,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  could  not  speak.  The  rush  of  associations  which  the 
sight  of  the  well-known  old  rickety  furniture,  and  the 
figure  which  was  seated,  book  in  hand,  with  its  back  to 
the  door  and  its  feet  up  against  one  side  of  the  mantel- 
piece, called  up,  choked  him. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  he  said,  at  last. 

He  saw  the  figure  give  a  start,  and  the  book  trembled  a 
little,  but  then  came  the  answer,  slow  but  firm  — 

"  I  have  not  changed  my  opinion." 

"  No,  dear  old  boy,  but  I  have,"  and  Tom  rushed  across 
to  his  friend,  dearer  than  ever  to  him  now,  and  threw  his 
ft]  m  round  his  neck ;  and,  if  the  un-English  truth  must 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  329 

out,  had  three  parts  of  a  mind  to  kiss  the  rough  face  which 
was  now  working  with  strong  emotion. 

"  Thank  God ! "  said  Hardy,  as  he  grasped  the  hand 
which  hung  over  his  shoulder. 

"  And,  now,  come  over  to  my  rooms ;  your  father  is 
there  waiting  for  us.'' 

"  What,  the  dear  old  governor  ?  That's  what  he  has 
been  after,  is  it  ?  I  couldn't  think  where  he  could  have 
hove  to,  as  he  would  say." 

Hardy  put  on  his  cap,  and  the  two  hurried  back  to  Tom's 
rooms,  the  lightest  hearts  in  the  university  of  Oxford. 
28* 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

CAPTAIN   HARDY  ENTERTAINED   BY  ST.  AMBROSE. 

There  are  moments  in  the  life  of  the  most  self-con- 
tained and  sober  of  us  all,  when  we  fairly  bubble  over,  like 
a  full  bottle  of  champagne  with  the  cork  out ;  and  this 
was  one  of  them  for  our  hero,  who,  however,  be  it  re- 
marked, was  neither  self-contained  nor  sober  by  nature. 
When  .they  got  back  to  his  rooms,  he  really  hardly  knew 
what  to  do  to  give  vent  to  his  lightness  of  heart;  and 
Hardy,  though  self-contained  and  sober  enough  in  general, 
was  on  this  occasion  almost  as  bad  as  his  friend.  They 
rattled  on,  talking  out  the  thing  which  came  uppermost, 
whatever  the  subject  might  chance  to  be  ;  but,  whether 
grave  or  gay,  it  always  ended  after  a  minute  or  two  in 
jokes  not  always  good,  and  chaff,  and  laughter.  The  poor 
captain  was  a  little  puzzled  at  first,  and  made  one  or  two 
endeavors  to  turn  the  talk  into  improving  channels.  But 
very  soon  he  saw  that  Jack  was  thoroughly  happy,  and 
that  was  always  enough  for  him.  So  he  listened  to  one 
and  the  other,  joining  cheerily  in  the  laugh  whenever  he 
could ;  and,  when  he  couldn't  catch  the  joke,  looking  like 
a  benevolent  old  lion,  and  making  as  much  belief  that  he 
had  understood  it  all,  as  the  simplicity  and  truthfulness  of 
his  character  would  allow. 

The  spirits  of  the  two  friends  seemed  inexhaustible. 
They  lasted  out  the  bottle  of  sherry  which  Tom  had  un- 
corked, and  the  remains  of  a  bottle  of  his  famous  port. 
He  had  tried  hard  to  be  allowed  to  open  a  fresh  bottle,  but 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  331 

the  captain  had  made  such  a  point  of  his  not  doing  so,  that 
he  had  given  in  for  hospitality's  sake.  They  lasted  out 
the  coffee  and  anchovy  toast ;  after  which  the  captain  made 
a  little  effort  at  moving,  which  was  supplicatingly  stopped 
by  Tom. 

"  Oh,  pray,  don't  go,  Captain  Hardy.  I  haven't  been  so 
lappy  for  months.  Besides,  I  must  brew  you  a  glass  of 
grog.  I  pride  myself  on  my  brew.  Your  son,  there,  will 
tell  you  that  I  am  a  dead  hand  at  it.  Here,  Wiggins,  a 
iemon!"  shouted  Tom. 

"  Well,  for  once  in  a  way,  I  suppose.  Eh,  Jack  ?  "  said 
the  captain,  looking  at  his  son. 

"  Oh,  yes,  father.  You  mayn't  know  it  Brown,  but,  if 
there  is  one  thing  harder  to  do  than  another,  it  is  to 
get  an  old  sailor  like  my  father  to  take  a  glass  of  grog  at 
night." 

The  captain  laughed  a  little  laugh,  and  shook  his  thick 
stick  at  his  son  who  went  on. 

"  And  as  for  asking  him  to  take  a  pipe  with  it  —  " 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Tom,  "  I  quite  forgot.  I  really  beg 
your  pardon,  Captain  Hardy  ; "  and  he  put  down  the  lemon 
he  was  squeezing,  and  produced  a  box  of  cigars. 

"  It's  all  Jack's  nonsense,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  holding 
out  his  hand,  nevertheless,  for  the  box. 

"Now,  father,  don't  be  absurd,"  interrupted  Hardy, 
snatching  the  box  away  from  him.  "  You  might  as  well 
give  him  a  glass  of  absinthe.  He  is  churchwarden  at 
home,  and  can't  smoke  any  thing  but  a  long  clay." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I  haven't  one  here,  but  I  can  send  out 
in  a  minute."  And  Tom  was  making  for  the  door  to  shout 
for  Wiggins. 

u  No,  don't  call.     I'll  fetch  some  from  my  rooms." 

When  Hardy  left  the  room,  Tom  squeezed  away  at  his 
lemon,  and  was  preparing  himself  for  a  speech  to  Captain 


332  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Hardy  full  of  confession  and  gratitude.  But  the  captain 
was  before  him,  and  led  the  conversation  into  a  most  un- 
expected channel. 

"  I  suppose,  now,  Mr.  Brown,"  he  began,  "  you  don't 
find  any  difficulty  in  construing  your  Thucydides  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,  sir,"  said  Tom,  laughing.  "  I  find  him  a 
very  tough  old  customer,  except  in  the  simplest  narrative." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  can't  get  on  at  all, 
I  find,  without  a  translation.  But  you  see,  sir,  I  had  none 
of  the  advantages  which  young  men  have  up  here.  In 
fact,  Mr.  Brown,  I  didn't  begin  Greek  till  Jack  was  nearly 
ten  years  old."  The  captain  in  his  secret  heart  was 
prouder  of  his  partial  victory  over  the  Greek  tongue  in  his 
old  age,  than  of  his  undisputed  triumphs  over  the  French 
in  his  youth,  and  was  not  averse  to  talking  of  it. 

"  I  wonder  that  you  ever  began  it  at  all,  sir,"  said  Tom. 

"  You  wouldn't  wonder  if  you  knew  how  an  uneducated 
man  like  me  feels,  when  he  comes  to  a  place  like  Oxford." 

"  Uneducated,  sir  ! "  said  Tom.  "  Why  your  education 
has  been  worth  twice  as  much,  I'm  sure,  as  any  we  get 
here." 

"  No,  sir;  we  never  learnt  any  thing  in  the  navy  when 
I  was  a  youngster,  except  a  little  rule-of-thumb  mathemat- 
ics. One  picked  up  a  sort»of  smattering  of  a  language  or 
two  knocking  about  the  world,  but  no  grammatical  knowl- 
edge, nothing  scientific.  If  a  boy  doesn't  get  a  method,  he 
is  beating  to  windward  in  a  crank  craft  all  his  life.  He 
hasn't  got  any  regular  place  to  stow  away  what  he  gets  into 
his  brains,  and  so  it  lies  tumbling  about  in  the  hold,  and 
he  loses  it,  or  it  gets  damaged  and  is  never  ready  for  use. 
You  see  what  I  mean,  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  But  I'm  afraid  we  don't  all  of  us  get  much 
method  up  here.  Do  you  really  enjoy  reading  Thucydides 
new,  Captain  Hardy  ?  " 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  333 

"  Indeed  I  do,  sir,  very  much,"  said  the  caplaia 
*  There's  a  great  deal  in  his  history  to  interest  an  old 
sailor,  you  know.  I  dare  say,  now,  that  I  enjoy  those 
parts  about  the  sea-fights  more  than  you  do."  The  cap- 
tain looked  at  Tom  as  if  he  had  made  an  audacious  re- 
mark. 

"  I  am  sure  you  do,  sir,"  said  Tom,  smiling. 

"  Because  you  see,  Mr.  Brown,"  said  the  captain,  "  when 
one  has  been  in  that  sort  of  thing  one's  self,  one  likes 
to  read  how  people  in  other  times  managed,  and  to  think 
what  one  would  have  done  in  their  place.  I  don't  believe 
that  the  Greeks  just  at  that  time  were  very  resolute  fight- 
ers, though.  Nelson  or  Collingwood  would  have  finished 
that  war  in  a  year  or  two." 

"Not  with  triremes,  do  you  think,  sir?"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  sir,  with  any  vessels  which  were  to  be  had,"  said 
the  captain.  "  But  you  are  right  about  triremes.  It  has 
always  been  a  great  puzzle  to  me  how  those  triremes  could 
have  been  worked.  How  do  you  understand  the  three 
banks  of  oars,  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  suppose  they  must  have  been  one  above 
the  other  somehow." 

"  But  the  upper  bank  must  have  had  oars  twenty  feet 
long  and  more  in  that  case,"  said  the  captain.  "You 
must  allow  for  leverage,  you  see." 

"  Of  course,  sir.  When  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  it  isn't 
easy  to  see  how  they  were  manned  and  worked,"  said 
Tom. 

"  Now  my  notion  about  triremes  —  "  began  the  captain, 
holding  the  head  of  his  stick  with  both  hands,  and  looking 
across  at  Tom. 

"  Why,  father ! "  cried  Hardy,  returning  at  the  moment 
with  the  pipes,  and  catching  the  captain's  last  word,  "  on 
one  of  your  hobby  horses  already !     You're  not  safe  !  —  I 


S34  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

can't  leave  you  for  two  minutes.  Here's  a  long  pipe  for 
you.     How  in  the  world  did  he  get  on  triremes  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  Tom,  "  but  I  want  to  hear  what 
Captain  Hardy  thinks  about  them.  You  were  saying,  sir, 
that  the  upper  oars  must  have  been  twenty  feet  long  at 
least." 

"  My  notion  is  — "  said  the  captain,  taking  the  pipe 
and  tobacco-pouch  from  his  son's  hand. 

"  Stop  one  moment,"  said  Hardy ;  "  I  found  Blake  at 
my  rooms,  and  asked  him  to  come  over  here.  You  don't 
object?" 

"  Object,  my  dear  fellow !  I'm  much  obliged  to  ycu. 
Now,  Hardy,  would  you  like  to  have  any  one  else  ?  I  can 
send  in  a  minute." 

"  No  one,  thank  you." 

"You  wont  stand  on  ceremony  now,  will  you,  with  me?" 
said  Tom. 

"  You  see  I  haven't." 

"  And  you  never  will  again  ?  " 

"  No,  never.  Now,  father,  you  can  heave  ahead  about 
those  oars." 

The  captain  went  on  charging  his  pipe,  and  proceeded : 
"  You  see,  Mr.  Brown,  they  must  have  been  at  least 
twenty  feet  long,  because,  if  you  allow  the  lowest  bank  of 
oars  to  have  been  three  feet  above  the  water-line,  which 
even  Jack  thinks  they  must  have  been  —  " 

"  Certainly.  That  height  at  least  to  do  any  good,"  said 
Hardy. 

"  Not  that  J  think  Jack's  opinion  worth  much  on  the 
point,"  went  on  his  father. 

"  It's  very  ungrateful  of  you,  then,  to  say  so,  father" 
said  Hardy,  "  after  all  the  time  I've  wasted  trying  to  make 
it  all  clear  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  say  that  Jack's  is  not  a  good  opinion  on  most 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  335 

things,  Mr.  Brown,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  but  he  is  all  at 
sea  about  triremes.  He  believes  that  the  men  of  the  up- 
permost bank  rowed  somehow  like  lightermen  on  the 
Thames,  walking  up  and  down." 

"  I  object  to  your  statement  of  my  faith,  father,"  said 
Hardy. 

"  Now  you  know,  Jack,  you  have  said  so,  often." 

"I  have  said  they  must  have  stood  up  to  row,  and 
so  —  " 

"You  would  have  had  awful  confusion,  Jack.  You 
must  have  order  between  decks  when  you're  going  into 
action.     Besides,  the  rowers  had  cushions." 

"  That  old  heresy  of  yours  again." 

"  "Well,  but  Jack,  they  had  cushions.  Didn't  the  rowers 
who  were  marched  across  the  Isthmus  to  man  the  ships 
which  were  to  surprise  the  Piraeus,  carry  their  oars,  thongs, 
and  cushions  ?  " 

"  If  they  did,  your  conclusion  doesn't  follow,  father,  that 
they  sat  on  them  to  row." 

"  You  hear,  Mr.  Brown,"  said  the  captain  ;  "  he  admits 
my  point  about  the  cushions." 

"  O  father,  I  hope  you  used  to  fight  the  French  moro 
fairly,"  said  Hardy. 

"  But,  didn't  he  ?     Didn't  Jack  admit  my  point  ?  " 

"  Implicitly,  sir,  I  think,"  said  Tom,  catching  Hardy'b 
eye,  which  was  dancing  with  fun. 

"  Of  course  he  did.  You  hear  that,  Jack.  Now  my 
notion  about  triremes  —  " 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  the  captain  again,  and 
Blake  came  in  and  was  introduced. 

"Mr.  Blake  is  almost  our  best  scholar,  father;  you 
should  appeal  to  him  about  the  cushions." 

"I  am  very  proud  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  said 
the  captain;  "  I  have  heard  my  son  speak  of  you  often." 


336  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  We  were  talking  about  triremes,"  said  Tom ;  "  Cap- 
tain Hardy  thinks  the  oars  must  have  been  twenty  feet 
long." 

"  Not  easy  to  come  forward  well  with  that  sort  of  oar," 
said  Blake  ;  "  they  must  have  pulled  a  slow  stroke." 

"  Our  torpid  would  have  bumped  the  best  of  them,"  said 
Hardy. 

"  I  don't  think  they  could  have  made  more  than  six 
knots,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but  yet  they  used  to  sink  one 
another,  and  a  light  boat  going  only  six  knots  couldn't 
break  another  in  two  amidships.  It's  a  puzzling  subject, 
Mr.  Blake." 

" It  is,  sir,"  said  Blake;  "if  we  only  had  some  of  the 
fo'castle  songs  we  should  know  more  about  it.  I'm  afraid 
they  had  no  Dibdin." 

"  I  wish  you  would  turn  one  of  my  father's  favorite 
songs  into  anapaests  for  him,"  said  Hardy. 

"  What  are  they  ?"  said  Blake. 

" '  Tom  Bowling,'  or  *  The  wind  that  blows,  and  the  ship 
that  goes,  and  the  lass  that  loves  a  sailor.'  " 

"  By  the  way,  why  shouldn't  we  have  a  song  ?"  said 
Tom.     "  What  do  you  say,  Captain  Hardy  ?  " 

The  captain  winced  a  little  as  he  saw  his  chance  of  ex- 
pounding his  notion  as  to  triremes  slipping  away,  but  an- 
swered, — 

"  By  all  means,  sir ;  Jack  must  sing  for  me,  though. 
Did  you  ever  hear  him  sing  '  Tom  Bowling '  ?  " 

"  No,  never,  sir.  Why,  Hardy,  you  never  told  me  you 
could  sing." 

"  You  never  asked  me,"  said  Hardy,  laughing ;  "  but,  if 
I  sing  for  my  father,  he  must  spin  us  a  yarn." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  will  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Mr.  Brown ;  but  I  don't  know  that 
you'll  care  to  listen  to  my  old  yarns.     Jack  thinks  every- 


TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  337 

body  must  like  them  as  well  as  he,  who  used  to  hear  them 
when  he  was  a  child." 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  that's  famous,  —  now  Hardy,  strike 
up." 

"  After  you.  You  must  set  the  example  in  your  own 
rooms." 

So  Tom  sang  his  song.  And  the  noise  brought  Drys- 
dale  and  another  man  up,  who  were  loitering  in  quad  on 
the  lookout  for  something  to  do.  Drysdale  and  the  cap- 
tain recognized  one  another,  and  were  friends  at  once. 
And  then  Hardy  sang  "  Tom  Bowling,"  in  a  style  which 
astonished  the  rest  not  a  little,  and  as  usual  nearly  made 
his  father  cry ;  and  Blake  sang,  and  Drysdale,  and  the 
other  man.  And  then  the  captain  was-  called  on  for  his 
yarn ;  and,  the  general  voice  being  for  "  something  that 
had  happened  to  him,"  "  the  strangest  thing  that  had  ever 
happened  to  him  at  sea,"  the  old  gentleman  laid  down  his 
pipe  and  sat  up  in  his  chair  with  his  hands  on  his  stick 
and  began. 

THE    CAPTAIN'S    STORY. 

It  will  be  forty  years  ago,  next  month,  since  the  ship  I 
was  then  in  came  home  from  the  "West  Indies  station,  and 
was  paid  off.  I  had  nowhere  in  particular  to  go  just  then, 
and  so  was  very  glad  to  get  a  letter,  the  morning  after  I 
went  ashore  at  Portsmouth,  asking  me  to  go  down  to  Plym- 
outh for  a  week  or  so.  It  came  fiom  an  old  sailor,  a 
friend  of  my  family,  who  had  been  commodore  of  the 
fleet.  He  lived  at  Plymouth;  he  was  a  thorough  old 
sailor,  —  what  you  young  men  would  call  "  an  old  salt," 
—  and  couldn't  live  out  of  sight  of  the  blue  sea  and  the 
shipping.  It  is  a  disease  that  a  good  many  of  us  take  who 
have  spent  our  best  years  on  the  sea.  I  have  it  myself,— 
a  sort  of  feeling  that  we  must  be  under  another  kind  of 
29 


?33  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Providence,  when  we  look  out  and  see  a  hill  on  this  side 
and  a  hill  on  that.  It's  wonderful  to  see  the  trees  come 
out  and  the  corn  grow,  but  then  it  doesn't  come  so  home  to 
an  old  sailor.  I  know  that  we're  ail  just,  as  much  under 
the  Lord's  hand  on  shore  as  at  sea  ;  but  you  can't  read  in 
a  book  you  haven't  been  used  to,  and  they  that  go  down 
to  the  sea  in  ships,  they  see  the  works  of  the  Lord  and 
his  wonders  in  the  deep.  It  isn't  their  fault  if  they  don't 
see  his  wonders  on  the  land  so  easily  as  other  people. 

But,  for  all  that,  there's  no  man  enjoys  a  cruize  in  the 
country  more  than  a  sailor.  It's  forty  years  ago  since  I 
started  for  Plymouth,  but  I  haven't  forgotten  the  road  a 
bit,  or  how  beautiful  it  was,  all  through  the  New  Forest, 
and  over  Salisbury  Plain,  and  then  on  by  the  mail  to 
Exeter,  and  through  Devonshire.  It  took  me  three  days 
to  get  to  Plymouth,  for  we  didn't  get  about  so  quick  in 
those  days. 

The  commodore  was  very  kind  to  me  when  I  got  there, 
and  I  went  about  with  him  to  the  ships  in  the  bay,  and 
through  the  dockyard,  and  picked  up' a  good  deal  that  was 
of  use  to  me  afterwards.  I  was*a  lieutenant  in  those  days, 
and  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  service,  and  I  found  the  old 
commodore  had  a  great-nephew  whom  he  had  adopted, 
and  had  set  his  whole  heart  upon.  He  was  an  old  bachelor 
himself,  but  the  boy  had  come  to  live  with  him,  and  was 
to  go  to  sea ;  so  he  wanted  to  put  him  under  some  one  who 
would  give  an  eye  to  him  for  the  first  year  or  two.  He 
was  a  light  slip  of  a  boy  then,  fourteen  years  old,  with 
deep-set  blue  eyes  and  long  eyelashes,  and  cheeks  like  a 
girl's,  but  as  brave  as  a  lion  and  as  merry  as  a  lark.  The 
old  gentleman  was  very  pleased  to  see  that  we  took  to  one 
another.  We  used  to  bathe  and  boat  togeth<?r ;  and  he 
was  never  tired  of  hearing  my  stories  about  the  great  ad- 
mirals, and  the  fleet,  and  the  stations  I  had  been  on. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  839 

Well,  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  apply  for  a  ship  again 
directly,  and  go  up  to  London  with  a  letter  to  the  admi- 
ralty from  the  commodore,  to  help  things  on.  After  a  month 
or  two,  I  was  appointed  to  a  brig,  lying  at  Spithead ;  and 
so  I  wrote  off  to  the  commodore,  and  he  got  his  boy  a 
midshipman's  berth  on  board,  and  brought  him  to  Ports- 
mouth himself,  a  day  or  two  before  we  sailed  for  the  Medi- 
terranean. The  old  gentleman  came  on  board  to  see  his 
boy's  hammock  slung,  and  went  below  into  the  cockpit  to 
make  sure  that  all  was  right.  He  only  left  us  by  the  pilot- 
boat,  when  we  were  well  out  in  the  channel.  He  was 
very  low  at  parting  from  his  boy,  but  bore  up  as  well  as 
he  could  ;  and  we  promised  to  write  to  him  from  Gibraltar, 
and  as  often  afterwards  as  we  had  a  chance. 

I  was  soon  as  proud  and  fond  of  little  Tom  Holdsworth 
as  if  he  had  been  my  own  younger  brother ;  and,  for  that 
matter,  so  were  all  the  crew,  from  our  captain  to  the  cook's 
boy.  He  was  such  a  gallant  youngster,  and  yet  so  gentle. 
In  one  cutting-out  business  we  had  he  climbed  over  the 
boatswain's  shoulders,  and  was  almost  first  on  deck ;  how 
he  came  out  of  it  without  a  scratch  I  can't  think  to  this  day. 
But  he  hadn't  a  bit  of  bluster  in  him,  and  was  as  kind  as 
a  woman  to  any  one  who  was  wounded  or  down  with  sick- 
ness. 

After  we  had  been  out  about  a  year,  we  were  sent  to 
cruise  off  Malta,  on  the  lookout  for  the  French  fleet.  It 
was  a  long  business,  and  the  post  wasn't  so  good  then  as  it 
is  now.  We  were  sometimes  for  months  without  getting 
a  letter,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  was  happening  at  home, 
or  anywhere  else.  We  had  a  sick  time  too  on  board,  and 
at  last  he  got  a  fever.  He  bore  up  against  it  like  a  man, 
and  wouldn't  knock  off  duty  for  a  long  time.  He  was  mid- 
shipman of  my  watch  ;  so  I  used  to  make  him  turn  in  early, 
and  tried  to  ease  things  to  him  as  much  as  I  could ;  but  ho 


340  TOiX   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

didn't  pick  up,  and  I  began  to  get  very  anxious  about  him. 
I  talked  to  the  doctor,  and  turned  matters  over  in  my  own 
mind,  and  at  last  I  came  to  think  he  wouldn't  get  any  bet 
ter  unless  he  could  sleep  out  of  the  cockpit.  So,  one  night, 
the  20th  of  October  it  was,  —  I  remember  it  well  enough, 
better  than  I  remember  any  day  since  ;  it  was  a  dirty  night, 
blowing  half  a  gale  of  wind  from  the  southward,  and  we 
were  under  close-reefed  topsails,  —  I  had  the  first  watch, 
and  at  nine  o'clock  I  sent  him  down  to  my  cabin  to  sleep 
there,  where  he  would  be  fresher  and  quieter,  and  I  was 
to  turn  into  his  hammock  when  my  watch  was  over. 

I  was  on  deck  three  hours  or  so  after  he  went  down, 
and  the  weather  got  dirtier  and  dirtier,  and  the  scud  drove 
by,  and  the  wind  sang  and  hummed  through  the  rigging  — 
it  made  me  melancholy  to  listen  to  it.  I  could  think  of 
nothing  but  the  youngster  down  below,  and  what  I  should 
say  to  his  poor  old  uncle  if  any  thing  happened.  "Well, 
soon  after  midnight  I  went  down  and  turned  into  his  ham- 
mock. I  didn't  go  to  sleep  at  once,  for  I  remember  very 
well  listening  to  the  creaking  of  the  ship's  timbers  as  she 
rose  to  the  swell,  and  watching  the  lamp,  which  was  slung 
from  the  ceiling,  and  gave  light  enough  to  make  out  the 
other  hammocks  swinging  slowly  all  together.  At  last, 
however,  I  dropped  off*,  and  I  reckon  I  must  have  been 
asleep  about  an  hour,  when  I  woke  with  a  start.  For  the 
first  moment,  I  didn't  see  any  thing  but  the  swinging  ham- 
mocks and  the  lamp  ;  but,  then,  suddenly  I  became  aware 
that  some  one  was  standing  by  my  hammock,  and  I  saw 
the  figure  as  plainly  as  I  see  any  one  of  you  now,  for  the 
foot  of  the  hammock  was  close  to  the  lamp,  and  the  light 
struck  full  across  on  the  head  and  shoulders,  which  was 
all  that  I  could  see  of  him.  There  he  was,  the  old  com- 
modore ;  his  grizzled  hair  coming  out  from  under  a  red 
woollen  nightcap,  and  his  shoulders  wrapped  in  an  old 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  841 

threadbare  blue  dressing-gown,  which  I  had  often  seen  him 
in.  His  face  looked  pale  and  drawn,  and  there  was  a 
wistful,  disappointed  look  about  the  eyes.  I  was  so  taken 
aback  I  couldn't  speak,  but  lay  watching  him.  He  looked 
full  at  my  face  once  or  twice,  but  didn't  seem  to  recog- 
nize me ;  and,  just  as  I  was  getting  back  my  tongue  and 
going  to  speak,  he  said,  slowly :  *  Where's  Tom  ?  this  is 
his  hammock.  I  can't  see  Tom ; '  and  then  he  looked 
vaguely  about  and  passed  away  somehow,  but  how,  I 
couldn't  see.  In  a  moment  or  two  I  jumped  out  and  hur- 
ried to  my  cabin,  but  young  Holdsworth  was  fast  asleep. 
I  sat  down,  and  wrote  down  just  what  I  had  seen,  making 
a  note  of  the  exact  time,  twenty  minutes  to  two.  I  didn't 
turn  in  again,  but  sat  watching  the  youngster.  When  he 
woke  I  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  any  thing  of  his  great- 
uncle  by  the  last  mail.  Yes,  he  had  heard ;  the  old  gen- 
tleman was  rather  feeble,  but  nothing  particular  the  mat- 
ter. I  kept  my  own  counsel  and  never  told  a  soul  in  the 
ship ;  and,  when  the  mail  came  to  hand  a  few  days  after- 
wards with  a  letter,  from  the  commodore  to  his  nephew, 
dated  late  in  September,  saying  that  he  was  well,  I  thought 
the  figure  by  my  hammock  must  have  been  all  my  own 
fancy. 

However,  by  the  next  mail  came  the  news  of  the  old 
commodore's  death.  It  had  been  a  very  sudden  break-up, 
his  executor  said.  He  had  left  all  his  property,  which 
was  not  much,  to  his  great-nephew,  who  was  to  get  leave 
to  come  home  as  soon  as  he  could. 

The  first  time  we  touched  at  Malta,  Tom  Holdsworth 
left  us,  and  went  home.  We  followed  about  two  years 
afterwards,  and  the  first  *thing  I  did  after  landing  wa.s  to 
find  out  the  commodore's  executor.  He  was  a  quiet,  dry 
little  Plymouth  lawyer,  and  very  civilly  answered  all  my 
questions  about  the  last  days  of  my  old  friend.  At  last 
29* 


842  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

I  asked  him  to  tell  me  as  near  as  he  coulcLtha  fime  of  his 
death ;  and  he  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  got'his  diary,  and 
turned  over  the  leaves.  I  was  quite  nervous  till  he  looked 
up  and  said,  "  Twenty-five  minutes  to  two,  sir,  a.m.,  on 
the  morning  of  October  21st ;  or  it  might  be  a  few  minutes 
later." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  "Well,"  he  said,  "  it  is  an  odd  story.  The  doctor  was 
sitting  with  me,  watching  the  old  man,  and,  as  I  tell  you, 
at  twenty-five  minutes  to  two,  he  got  up  and  said  it  was  all 
over.  We  stood  togethsr,  talking  in  whispers,  for,  it  might 
be,  four  or  five  minutes,  when  the  body  seemed  to  move. 
He  was  an  odd  old  man,  you  know,  the  commodore,  and 
we  never  could  get  him  properly  to  bed,  but  he  lay  in  his 
red  nightcap  and  old  dressing-gown,  with  a  blanket  over 
him.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  sight,  I  can  tell  you,  sir.  I 
don't  think  one  of  you  gentlemen,  who  are  bred  to  face 
all  manner  of  dangers,  would  have  liked  it.  As  I  was  say- 
ing, the  body  first  moved,  and  then  sat  up,  propping  itself 
behind  with  its  hands.  The  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  he 
looked  at  us  for  a  moment,  and  said,  slowly, l  I've  been  to 
the  Mediterranean  but  I  didn't  see  Tom/  Then  the  body 
sank  back  again,  and  this  time  the  old  commodore  was 
really  dead.  But  it  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  happen  to 
one,  sir.  I  do  not  remember  any  thing  like  it  in  my  forty 
years'  practice." 


.4 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

DEPARTURES  EXPECTED  AND  UNEXPECTED. 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  seconds  after  the  captain 
had  finished  his  story,  all  the  men  sitting  with  eyes  fixed 
on  him,  and  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  results  of  their 
call.  Drysdale  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence,  which 
he  did  with  a  "  By  George  ! "  and  a  long  respiration ;  but, 
as  he  did  not  seem  prepared  with  any  further  remark, 
Tom  took  up  the  running. 

"  What  a  strapge  story,"  he  said ;  "  and  that  really  hap- 
pened to  you,  Captain  Hardy  ?  " 

.     "  To  me,  sir,  in  the  Mediterranean,  more  than  forty 
years  ago." 

"  The  strangest  thing  about  it  is  that  the  old  commodore 
should  have  managed  to  get  all  the  way  to  the  ship,  and 
then  not  have  known  where  his  nephew  was,"  said  Blake. 

"  He  only  knew  his  nephew's  berth,  you  see,  sir,"  said 
the  captain. 

"  But  he  might  have  beat  about  through  the  ship  till  he 
had  found  him." 

"  You  must  remember  that  he  was  at  his  last  breath, 
sir,"  said  the  captain ;  "  you  can't  expect  a  man  to  have 
his  head  clear  at  such  a  moment." 

"  Not  a  man,  perhaps,  but  I  should  a  ghost,"  said  Blake. 

"  Time  was  every  thing  to  him,"  went  on  the  captain, 
without  regarding  the  interruption,  "  space  nothing.-  But 
the  strangest  part  of  it  is  that  /  should  have  seen  the 
figure  at  all.     It's  true  I  had  been  thinking  of  the  old 


344  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

uncle,  because  of  the  boy's  illness ;  but  I  can't  suppose  he 
was  thinking  of  me,  and,  as  I  say,  b^  never  recognized  me. 
I  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  interest  in  such  matters  since 
that  time,  but  I  have  never  met  with  just  such  a  case  as 
this." 

"  No,  that  is  the  puzzle.  One  can  fancy  his  appearing 
to  his  nephew  well  enough,"  said  Tom. 

"  We  can't  account  for  these  things,  or  for  a  good  many 
other  things  which  ought  to  be  quite  as  startling,  only  we 
see  them  every  day.  But  now  I  think  it  is  time  for  us  to 
be  going  ;  eh,  Jack?"  and  the  captain  and  his  son  rose  to 
go. 

Tom  saw  that  it  would  be  no  kindness  to  them  to  try  to 
prolong  the  sitting,  and  so  he  got  up  too,  to  accompany 
them  to  the  gates.  This  broke  up  the  party.  Before 
going,  Drysdale,  after  whispering  to  Tom,  went  up  to  Cap- 
tain Hardy,  and  said,  — 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  to  do  me  a  favor,  sir.  Will  yc  u 
and  your  son  breakfast  with  me  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  We  shall  be  very  happy,  sir,"  said  the  captain. 

"I  think,  father,  you  had  better  breakfast  with  me, 
quietly.  We  are  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Drysdale,  but  I 
can't  give  up  a  whole  morning.  Besides,  I  have  several 
things  to  talk  to  you  about." 

"  Nonsense,  Jack,"  blurted  out  the  old  sailor,  "  leave 
your  books  alone  for  one  morning.  I'm  come  up  here  to 
enjoy  myself,  and  see  your  friends." 

Hardy  gave  a  slight  shrug  of  his  shoulders  at  the  word 
friends,  and  Drysdale,  who  saw  it,  looked  a  little  confused. 
He  had  never  asked  Hardy  to  his.  rooms  before.  The 
captain  saw  that  something  was  the  matter  t  and  hastened 
in  his  own  way  to  make  all  smooth  again. 

"  Never  mind  Jack,  sir,"  he  said,  "  he  shall  come.     It's 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD  345 

B  great  treat  to  me  to  be  with  young  men,  especially  m  hen 
they  are  friends  of  my  boy." 

"  I  hope  you'll  come  as  a  personal  favor  to  me,"  said 
Drysdale,  turning  to  Hardy.  "  Brown,  you'll  bring  him. 
wont  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'm  sure  he'll  come,"  said  Tom. 

"  That's  all  right.  Good-night,  then  ;  "  and  Drysdale 
went  off. 

Hardy  and  Tom  accompanied  the  captain  to  the  gate. 
During  his  passage  across  the  two  quadrangles,  the  old 
gentleman  was  full  of  the  praises  of  the  men,  and  of  prot- 
estations as  to  the  improvement  in  social  manners  and 
customs  since  his  day,  when  there  could  have  been  no 
such  meeting,  he  declared,  without  blackguardism  and 
drunkenness,  at  least  among  young  officers,  but  then  they 
had  less  to  think  of  than  Oxford  men,  no  proper  educa- 
tiori.  And  so  the  captain  was  evidently  travelling  back 
into  the  great  trireme  question  when  they  reached  the 
gate.  As  they  could  go  no  further  with  him,  however,  he 
had  to  carry  away  his  solution  of  the  three-banks-of-oars 
difficulty  in  his  own  bosom  to  the  Mitre. 

"  Don't  let  us  go  in,"  said  Tom,  as  the  gate  closed  on 
the  captain,  and  they  turned  back  into  the  quadrangle, 
"  let  us  take  a  turn  or  two ; "  so  they  walked  up  and  down 
the  inner  quad  in  the  starlight. 

Just  at  first  they  were  a  good  deal  embarrassed  and 
confused  :  but  before  long,  though  not  without  putting  con- 
siderable force  on  himself,  Tom  got  back  into  something 
like  his  old  familiar  way  of  unbosoming  himself  to  his  re-, 
found  friend,  and  Hardy  showed  more  than  his  old  anxiety 
to  meet  him  half-way.  His  ready  and  undisguised  sympa- 
thy soon  dispersed  the  few  remaining  clouds  which  were 
still  hanging  between  them ;  and  Tom  found  it  almost  a 
pleasure,  instead  of  a  dreary  task,  as  he  had  anticipated, 


S45  TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

to  make  a  full  confession,  and  state  the  case  clearly  anJ 
strongly  against  himself  to  one  who  claimed  neither  by 
word  nor  look  the  least  superiority  over  him,  and  never 
6eemed  to  remember  that  he  himself  had  been  ill-treated 
in  the  matter. 

"  He  had  such  a  chance  of  lecturing  me  and  didn't  do 
it,"  thought  Tom,  afterwards,  when  he  was  considering  why 
he  felt  so  very  grateful  to  Hardy.  "  It  was  so  cunning  of 
him,  too.  If  he  had  begun  lecturing,  I  should  have  begun 
to  defend  myself,  and  never  have  felt  half  such  a  scamp 
as  I  did  when  I  was  telling  it  all  out  to  him  in  my  own 
way." 

The  result  of  Hardy's  management  was  that  Tom  made 
a  clean  breast  of  it,  telling  every  thing,  down  to  his  night 
at  the  ragged  school ;  and  what  an  effect  his  chance  open- 
ing of  the  Apology  had  had  on  him.  Here  for  the  first 
time  Hardy  came  in  with  his  usual  dry,  keen  voice, 
"  You  needn't  have  gone  so  far  back  as  Plato  for  that  les- 
son." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Tom. 

"Well,  there's  something  about  an  indwelling  spirit 
which  guideth  every  man  in  St.  Paul,  isn't  there?" 

"  Yes,  a  great  deal,"  Tom  answered,  after  a  pause ; 
"  but  it  isn't  the  same  thing." 

"  Why  not  the  same  thing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  surely,  you  must  feel  it.  It  would  be  almost  blas- 
phemy in  us  now  to  talk  as  St.  Paul  talked.  It  is 
much  easier  to  face  the  notion,  or  the  fact,  of  a  ^mon  or 
spirit  such  as.  Socrates  felt  to  be  in  him,  than  to  face  what 
St.  Paul  seems  to  be  meaning." 

"Yes,  much  easier.  The  only  question  is  whether  we 
will  be  heathens  or  not." 

"  How  do  you  mean?"  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  a  spirit  was  speaking  to  Socrates,  and  guiding 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  34? 

him.  He  obeyed  the  guidance,  but  knew  not  whence  it 
came.  A  spirit  is  striving  with  us  too,  and  trying  to 
guide  us  —  we  feel  that  just  as  much  as  he  did,.  Do  we 
know  what  spirit  it  is  ?  whence  it  comes  ?  Will  we  obey 
it?  If  we  can't  name  it  —  know  no  more  of  it  than  he 
knew  about  his  demon,  of  course,  we  are  in  no  better  po- 
sition than  he  —  in  fact,  heathens." 

Tom  made  no  answer,  and,  after  a  silent  turn  or  two 
more,  Hardy  said,  "  Let  us  go  in ; "  and  they  went  to  his 
rooms.  When  the  candles  were  lighted,  Tom  saw  the 
array  of  books  on  the  table,  several  of  them  open,  and  re- 
membered how  near  the  examinations  were.   . 

"  I  see  you  want  to  work,"  he  said.  "  Well,  good- 
night. I  know  how  fellows  like  you  hate  being  thanked  — 
there,  you  needn't  wince  ;  I'm  not  going  to  try  it  on.  The 
best  way  to  thank  you,  I  know,  is  to  go  straight  for  the 
future.  I'll  do  that,  please  God,  this  time  at  any  rate. 
Inow  what  ought  I  to  do,  Hardy?" 

*  Well,  it's  very  hard  to  say.  I've  thought  about  it  a 
great  deal  this  last  few  days,  —  since  I  felt  you  were 
coming  round,  —  but  can't  make  up  my  mind.  How  do 
you  feel  yourself?     What's  your  own  instinct  about  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  I  must  break  it  all  off  at  once,  completely," 
said  Tom,  mournfully,  and  half  hoping  that  Hardy  mighr 
not  agree  with  him. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Hardy ;   "  but  how  ?  " 

"  In  the  way  that  will  pain  her  least.  I  would  sooner 
lose  my  hand  or  bite  my  tongue  off  than  that  she  should 
feel  lowered,  or  lose  any  self-respect,  you  know,"  said 
Tom,  looking  helplessly  at  his  friend. 

"  Yes,  that's  all  right,  —  you  must  take  all  you  can  on 
your  own  shoulders.  It  must  leave  a  sting  though  for 
both  of  you,  manage  how  you  will." 


X 


3 43  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  But  I  can't  bear  to  let  her  think  I  don't  care  for  her 
—  T  needn't  do  that  —  I  can't  do  that." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  advise.  However,  I  believe  I 
was  wrong  in  thinking  she  cared  for  you  so  much.  She 
will  be  hurt,  of  course  —  she  can't  help  being  hurt — but 
it  wont  be  so  bad  as  I  used  to  think." 

Tom  made  no  answer;  in  spite  of  all  his  good  resolu- 
tions, he  was  a  little  piqued  at  this  last  speech.  Hardy 
went  on  presently,  "  I  wish  she  were  well  out  of  Oxford. 
It's  a  bad  town  for  a  girl  to  be  living  in,  especially  as  a 
barmaid  in  a  place  which  we  haunt.  I  don't  know  that 
she  will  take  much  harm  now ;  but  it's  a  very  trying 
thing  for  a  girl  of  that  sort  to  be  thrown  every  day 
amongst  a  dozen  young  men  above  her  in  rank,  and  not 
one  in  ten  of  whom  has  any  manliness  about  him." 

"  How  do  you  mean  —  no  manliness  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  a  girl  in  her  position  isn't  safe  with  us. 
If  we  had  any  manliness  in  us  she  would  be  — " 

"  You  can't  expect  all  men  to  be  blocks  of  ice,  or  milk- 
sops," said  Tom,  who  was  getting  nettled. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  meant  you,"  said  Hardy ;  "  indeed, 
I  didn't.  But  surely,  think  a  moment ;  is  it  a  proof  of 
manliness  that  the  pure  and  the  weak  should  fear  you 
and  shrink  from  you  ?  Which  is  the  true  —  ay,  and  the 
brave  —  man,  he  who  trembles  before  a  woman,  or  he  be- 
fore whom  a  woman  trembles  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  I  see  what  you  mean,  and 
when  you  put  it  that  way,  it's  clear  enough." 

u  But  you're  wrong  in  saying  *  neither,'  if  you  do  see 
what  I  mean."  Tom  was  silent.  "  Can  there  be  any 
true  manliness  without  purity  ?  "  went  on  Hardy.  Tom 
drew  a  deep  breath,  but  said  nothing.  "  And  where,  then, 
can  you  point  to  a  place  where  is  so  little  manliness  ag 
here  ?     It  makes  my  blood  boil  to  see  what  one  must  see 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  849 

every  day.  There  are  a  set  of  men  up  here,  and  have 
been  ever  since  I  can  remember  the  place,  not  one  of 
whom  can  look  at  a  modest  woman  without  making  her 
shudder."  t  « 

"There  must  always  be  some  blackguards,"  said  Tom. 

w  Yes ;  but  unluckily  the  blackguards  set  the  fashion, 
and  give  the  tone  to  public  opinion. "  I'm  sure  both  of  us 
have  seen  enough  to  know  perfectly  well  that  up  here, 
amongst  us  undergraduates,  men  who  are  deliberately  and 
avowedly  profligates,  are  rather  admired  and  courted,  — 
are  said  to  know  the  world,  and  all  that,  — r  while  a  man 
who  tries  to  lead  a  pure  life,  and  makes  no  secret  of  it,  is 
openly  sneered  at  by  them,  looked  down  on  more  or  less 
by  the  great  mass  of  men,  and,  to  use  the  word  you  used 
just  now,  thought  a  milksop  by  almost  all." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  so  bad  as  tha't,"  said  Tom.  "  There 
are  many  men  who  would  respect  him,  though  they  might 
not  be  able  to  follow  him." 

u>  Of  course,  I  never  meant  that  there  are  not  many 
such,  but  they  don't  set  the  fashion.  I  am  sure  I'm 
right.  Let  us  try  it  by  the  best  test.  Haven't  you  and 
I,  in  our  secret  hearts,  this  cursed  feeling,  that  the  sort  of 
man  we  are  talking  of  is  a  milksop  ?  " 

After  a  moment's  thought,  Tom  answered,  "  I  am  afraid 
I  have,  but  I  really  am  thoroughly  ashamed  of  it  now, 
Hardy.  But  you  haven't  it.  If  you  had  it  you  could 
never  have  spoken  to  me  as  you  have." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  No  man  is  more  open  than  I  to 
the  bad  influences  of  any  place  he  lives  in.  God  knows  I 
am  even  as  other  men,  and  worse ;  for  I  have  been 
taught  ever  since  I  could  speak,  that  the  crown  of  all  real 
manUw-ess,  of  all  Christian  manliness,  is  purity." 

Neither  of  the  two   spoke   for   some   minutes.     Then 
Hardy  looked  at  his  watch, — 
SO 


850  TOM    BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"Past  eleven,"  lie  said.  "I  must  io  some  work 
"Well,  Brown,  this  will  be  a  day  to  be  remembered  in  my 
calendar." 

Tom  wrung  his  hand,  but  did  not  venture  to  reply.  As 
he  got  to  the  door,  however,  he  turned  back,  and  said, — 

"  Do  you  think  I  ought  to  write  to  her?" 

"  Well,  you  can  try.  You'll  find  it  a  bitter  business,  I 
fear." 

"  I'll  try,  then.     Good-night." 

Tom  went  to  his  own  rooms,  and  set  to  work  to  write 
his  letter ;  and  certainly  found  it  as  difficult  and  unpleas- 
ant a  task  as  he  had  ever  set  himself  to  work  upon.  Haifa 
dozen  times  he  tore  up  sheet  after  sheet  of  his  attempts ; 
and  got  up  and  walked  about,  and  plunged  and  kicked  men- 
tally against  the  collar  and  traces  in  which  he  had  har- 
nessed himself  by  his 'friend's  help,  — trying  to  convince 
himself  that  Hardy  was  a  Puritan,  who  had  lived  quite 
differently  from  other  men,  and  knew  nothing  of  what  a 
man  ought  to  do  in  a  case  like  this.  That,  after  all,  very 
little  harm  had  been  done !  The  world  would  never  go  on 
at  all  if  people  were  to  be  so  scrupulous !  Probably,  not 
another  man  in  the  college,  except  Grey,  perhaps,  would 
think  any  thing  of  what  he  had  done  !  Done !  — why, 
what  had  he  done  ?  He  couldn't  be  taking  it  more  seri- 
ously if  he  had  ruined  her ! 

At  this  point  he  managed  to  bring  himself  up  sharp 
'  again  rtore  than  once.  "  No  thanks  to  me,  at  any  rate 
that  she  isn't  ruined.  Had  I  any  pity*  any  scruples? 
My  God,  what  a  mean,  selfish  rascal  I  have  been ! "  and 
then  he  sat  down  again,  and  wrote,  and  scratched  out  what 
he  had  written,  till  the  other  fit  came  on,  and  something 
of  the  same  process  had  to  be  gone  through  again. 

I  am  sure  all  readers  must  recognize  the  process,  and 
will  remember  many  occasions  on  which  they  have  had  tc 


TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD.  35 1 

put  bridle  and  bit  on,  and  ride  themselves  as  if  they  had 
been  horses  or  mules  without  understanding ;  and  what  a 
trying  business  it  was  • —  as  bad  as  getting  a  young  colt 
past  a  gypsy  encampment  in  a  narrow  lane. 

At  last,  after  many  trials,  Tom  got  himself  well  in  hand, 
and  produced  something  which  seemed  to  satisfy  him ;  for, 
after  reading  it  three  or  four  times,  he  put  it  in  a  cover, 
with  a  small  case,  which  he  produced  from  his  desk,  sealed 
it,  directed  it,  and  then  went  to  bed.  - 

Next  morning,  after  chapel,  he  joined  Hardy,  and 
walked  to  his  rooms  with  him,  and  after  a  few  words  on 
indifferent  matters,  said,  — 

"  "Well,  I  wrote  my  letter  last  night." 

"Did  you  satisfy  yourself? " 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  I  don't  know,  though,  on  second 
thoughts :  it  was  very  tough  work." 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  find  it  so." 

"  But  wouldn't  you  like  to  see  it  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  suppose  my  father  will  be  here  di- 
rectly." 

"  But  I  wish  you  would  read  it  through,"  said  Tom, 
producing  a  copy. 

"  Well,  if  you  wish  it,  I  suppose  I  must ;  but  I  don't 
see  how  I  can  do  any  good." 

Hardy  took  the  letter,  and  sat  down,  and  Tom  drew  a 
chair  close  to  him,  and  watched  his  face  while  he  read :  — 

"  It  is  best  for  us  both  that  I  should  not  see  you  any 
more,  at  least,  at  present.  I  feel  that  I  have  done  you  a 
great  wrong.  I  dare  not  say  much  to  you,  for  fear  of 
making  that  wrong  greater.  I  cannot,  I  need  not  tell  you 
how  I  despise  myself  now  —  how  I  long  to  make  you  any 
amends  in  my  power.  If  ever  I  can  be  of  any  service  to 
you,  I  do  hope  that  nothing  which  has  passed  will  hinder 
you  from  applying  to  me.  You  will  not  believe,  how  it 
pains  me  to  write  this ;  how  should  you  ?     I  don't  deserve 


352  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

that  you  should  believe  any  thing  I  say.  I  must  seem 
heartless  to  you ;  I  have  been,  I  am  heartless.  I  hardly 
know  what  I  am  writing.  I  shall  long  all  my  life  to  hear 
good  news  of  you.  I  don't  ask  you  to  pardon  me,  but  if 
you  can  prevail  on  yourself  not  to  send  back  the  enclosed, 
and  will  keep  it  as  a  small  remembrance  of  one  who  is 
deeply  sorry  for  the  wrong  he  has  done  you,  but  who  can- 
not and  will  not  say  he  is  sorry  that  he  ever  met  you,  you 
will  be  adding  another  to  the  many  kindnesses  which  I 
Lave  to  thank  you  for,  and  which  I  shall  never  forget." 

Hardy  read  it  over  several  times,  as  Tom  watched  im- 
patiently, unable  to  make  out  any  thing  from  his  face. 

"What  do  you  think?  You  don't  think  there's  any 
thing  wrong  in  it,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  my  dear  fellow.  I  really  think  it  does 
you  credit.  I  don't  know  what  else  you  could  have  said 
very  well,  only  — " 

"Only  what?" 

"  Couldn't  you  have  made  it  a  little  shorter  ?  " 

"  No,  I  couldn't ;  but  you  don't  mean  that.  What  did 
you  mean  by  that '  only '  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  think  this  letter  will  end  the  business ; 
at  least,  I'm  afraid  not." 

"  But  what  more  could  I  have  said?" 

"  Nothing  more,  certainly ;  but  couldn't  you  have  been 
a  little  quieter,  —  it's  difficult  to  get  the  right  word,  —  a 
little  cooler,  perhaps  ?  Couldn't  you  have  made  the  part 
about  not  seeing  her  again  a  little  more  decided  ?  "  . 

"  But  you  said  I  needn't  pretend  I  didn't  care  for  her." 

"Did  I?" 

"  Yes.     Besides,  it  would  have  been  a  lie." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  a  lie,  certainly.  But  how 
about  this  i  small  remembrance'  that  you  speak  of?  What'a 
that?" 

"  Oh,  nething !  only  a  little  locket  I  bought  for  her." 


TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  3o3 

"With  some  of  your  hair  in'it?  " 

"Well,  of  course!  Come,  now,  there's  no  harm  ia 
that?" 

"  No ;  no  harm.     Do  you  think  she  will  wear  it  ?  " 

"How  can  I  tell?" 

"  It  may  make  her  think  it  isn't  all  at  an  end,  I'm  afraid. 
If  she  always  wears  your  hair  — " 

"  By  Jove,  you're  too  bad,  Hardy.  I  wish  you  had  had 
to  write  it  yourself.  It's  all  very  easy  to  pull  my  letter 
to  pieces,  I  dare  say,  but  — " 

"  I  didn't  want  to  read  it,  remember." 

"  No  more  you  did.  I  forgot.  But  I  wish  you  would 
just  write  down  now  what  you  would  have  said." 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  see  myself  at  it.  By  the  way,  of  course 
you  have  sent  your  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  sent  it  off  before  chapel." 

"I  thought  so.  In  that  case  I  don't  think  we  need 
trouble  ourselves  further  with  the  form  of  the  document." 

"  Oh,  that's  only  shirking.  How  do  you  know  I  may 
not  want  it  for  the  next  occasion  ?  " 

"  No,  no !  Don't  let  us  begin  laughing  about  it.  A 
man  never  ought  to  have  to  write  such  letters  twice  in  his 
life.  If  he  has,  why  he  may  get  a  good  enough  precedent 
for  the  second  out  of  the  *  Complete  Letter  Writer.' " 

"  So  you  wont  correct  my  copy  ?  " 

"No,  not  I." 

At  this  point  in  their  dialogue,  Captain  Hardy  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  the  party  went  off  to  Drysdale's  to 
breakfast. 

Captain  Hardy's  visit  to  St.  Ambrose  was  a  great  suc- 
cess. He  stayed  some  four  or  five  days,  and  saw  every 
thing  that  was  to  be  seen,  and  enjoyed  it  all  in  a  sort  of 
reverent  way  which  was  almost  comic.  Tom  devoted 
lumsclf  to  the  work  of  cicerone,  and  did  his  best  to  do 
30* 


354  TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

the  work  thoroughly.  Oxford  was  a  sort  of  Utopia  to  the 
captain,  who  was  resolutely  bent  on  seeing  nothing  but 
beauty  and  learning  and  wisdom  within  the  precincts  of 
the  university.  On  one  or  two  occasions  his  faith  was 
tried  sorely  by  the  sight  of  young  gentlemen  gracefully 
apparelled,  dawdling  along  two  together  in  low,  easy  pony 
carriages,  or  lying  on  their  backs  in  punts  for  hours  smok- 
ing, with  not  even  a  BeWs  Life  by  them  to  pass  the  time. 
Dawdling  and  doing  nothing  were  the  objects  of  his  spe- 
cial abhorrence ;  but  with  this  trifling  exception  the  cap- 
tain continued  steadily  to  behold  towers  and  quadrangles 
and  chapels  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  colleges,  through 
rose-colored  spectacles.  His  respect  for  a  "  regular  edu- 
cation," and  for  the  seat  of  learning  at  which  it  was  dis- 
pensed, was  so  strong,  that  he  invested  not  only  the  tutors, 
doctors,  and  proctors  (of  whom  he  saw  little,  except  at  a 
distance),  but  even  the  most  empty-headed  undergraduate 
whose  acquaintance  he  made,  with  a  sort  of  fancy  halo  of 
scientific  knowledge,  and  often  talked  to  those  youths  in  a 
way  which  was  curiously  bewildering  and  embarrassing  to 
them.  Drysdale  was  particularly  hit  by  it.  He  had  hu- 
mor and  honesty  enough  himself  to  appreciate  the  cap- 
tain, but  it  was  a  constant  puzzle  to  him  to  know  what  to 
make  of  it  all. 

"  He's  a  regular  old  brick,  is  the  captain,"  he  said  to 
Tom,  on  the  last  evening  of  the  old  gentleman's  visit ; 
"  but,  by  Jove,  I  can't  help  thinking  he  must  be  poking 
fun  at  us  half  his  time.  It  is  rather  too  rich  to  hear  him 
talking  on  as  if  we  were  all  as  fond  of  Greek  as  he  seems 
to  be,  and  as  if  no  man  ever  got  drunk  up  here." 

u  I  declare  I  think  he  believes  it,"  said  Tom.  "  You 
see  we're  all  careful  enough  before  him." 

"  That  son  of  his,  too,  must  be  a  good  fellow.  Don't 
you  see  he  can  never  have  peached  ?     His  father  was  tell- 


TOM  BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  855 

ing  me  last  night  what  a  comfort  it  was  to  him  to  see  that 
Jack's  poverty  had  been  no  drawback  to  him.  He  had 
always  told  him  it  would  be  so  amongst  English  gentle* 
men,  and  now  he  found  him  living  quietly  and  independ- 
ently, and  yet  on  equal  terms,  and  friends  with  men  far 
above  him  in  rank  and  fortune,  '  like  you,  sir/  the  old  boy 
said.  By  Jove,  Brown,  I  felt  devilish  foolish.  I  believe 
I  blushed,  and  it  isn't  often  I  indulge  in  that  sort  of  lux- 
ury. If  I  weren't  ashamed  of  doing  it  now,  I  should  iry 
to  make  friends  with  Hardy.  But  I  don't  know  how  to 
face  him,  and  I  doubt  whether  he  wouldn't  think  me  too 
much  of  a  rip  to  be  intimate  with." 

Tom,  at  his  own  special  request,  attended  the  captain's 
departure,  and  took  his  seat  opposite  to  him  and  his  son 
at  the  back  of  the  Southampton  coach,  to  accompany  him 
a  few  miles  out  of  Oxford.  For  the  first  mile,  the  cap- 
tain was  full  of  the  pleasures  of  his  visit,  and  of  invitations 
to  Tom  to  come  and  see  them  in  the  vacation.  If  he  did 
not  mind  homely  quarters  he  would  find  a  hearty  wel- 
come, and  there  was  no  finer  bathing  and  boating  place  on 
the  coast.  If  he  liked  to  bring  his  gun,  there  were  plenty 
of  blue  rock-pigeons  and  sea-otters  in  the  caves  at  the 
point.  Tom  protested,  with  the  greatest  sincerity,  that 
there  was  nothing  he  should  enjoy  so  much.  Then  the 
young  men  got  down  to  walk  up  Bagley  Hill,  and  when 
they  mounted  again  found  the  captain  with  a  large  leather 
case  in  his  hand,  out  of  which  he  took  two  five-pound 
notes,  and  began  pressing  them  on  his  son,  while  Tom 
tried  to  look  as  if  he  did  not  know  what  was  going  on. 
For  some  time  Hardy  steadily  refused,  and  the  contention 
became  animated,  and  it  was  useless  to  pretend  any  longer 
not  to  hear. 

"  Why,  Jack,  you're  not  too  proud,  I  hope,  to  take  a 
present  from  your  own  father,"  the  captain  said,  at  last. 


356  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

"  But.  my  dear  father,  I  don't  want  the  money.  You 
make  me  a  very  good  allowance  already." 

u  Now,  Jack,  just  listen  to  me,  and  be  reasonable.  You 
know  a  great  many  of  your  friends  have  been  very  hospi- 
table to  me :  I  could  not  return  their  hospitality  myself 
but  I  wish  you  to  do  so  for  me." 

"  Well,  father,  I  can  do  that  without  this  money." 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  the  captain,  pushing  forward  the 
notes  again,  "I  insist  on  your  taking  them.  You  will 
pain  me  very  much  if  you  don't  take  them." 

So  the  son  took  the  notes  at  last,  looking  as  most  men 
of  his  age  would  if  they  had  just  lost  them,  while  the 
father's  face  was  radiant  as  he  replaced  his  pocket-book  in 
the  breast-pocket  inside  his  coat.  His  eye  caught  Tom's 
in  the  midst  of  the  operation,  and  the  latter  could  not  help 
looking  a  little  confused,  as  if  he  had  been  unintentionally 
obtruding  on  their  privacy.  But  the  captain  at  once  laid 
his  hand  on  his  knee  and  said,  — 

"  A  young  fellow  is  never  the  worse  for  having  a  ten- 
pound  note  to  veer  and  haul  on  ;  eh/  Mr.  Brown  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  sir.  A  great  deal  better,  I  think,"  said 
Tom,  and  was  quite  comfortable  again.  The  captain  had 
no  new  coat  that  summer,  but  he  always  looked  like  a 
gentleman. 

Soon  the  coach  stopped  to  take  up  a  parcel  at  a  cross- 
road, and  the  young  men  got  down.  They  stood  watch- 
ing it  until  it  disappeared  round  a  corner  of  the  road,  and 
then  turned  back  towards  Oxford  and  struck  into  Bagley 
Wood,  Hardy  listening  with  evident  pleasure  to  his  friend's 
enthusiastic  praise  of  his  father.  But  he  was  not  in  a 
talking  humor,  and  they  were  soon  walking  along  together 
in  silence. 

This  was  the  first  time  they  had  been  alone  together 
umoe  the  morning  after  their  reconciliation ;  so,  presently, 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXIGRD.  357 

Tom  seized  the  occasion  to  recur  to  the  subject  which  was 
uppermost  in  his  thoughts. 

"  She  has  never  answered  my  letter,"  he  began,  ab- 
ruptly. 

"  I'm  very  glad  of  it,"  said  Hardy. 

"But,  why?" 

"  Because,  you  know  you  want  it  all  broken  off  com- 
pletely." 

"  Yes ;  but  still  she  might  have  just  acknowledged  it. 
You  don't  know  how  hard  it  is  to  me  to  keep  away  from 
the  place." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  know  it  must  be  hard  work,  but  you 
are  doing  the  right  thing." 

"  Yes,  I  hope  so,"  said  Tom,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  haven't 
been  within  a  hundred  yards  of  *  The  Choughs '  this  five 
days.     The  old  lady  must  think  it  so  odd." 

Hardy  made  no  reply.  What  could  he  say,  but  that  no 
doubt  she  did  ? 

"  Would  you  mind  doing  me  a  great  favor  ?  "  said  Tom, 
after  a  minute. 

"  Any  thing  I  can  do.     WTiat  is  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  just  to  step  round  on  our  way  back, — I  will  stay 
as  far  off  as  you  like,  —  and  see  how  things  are  going 
on  i  —  how  she  is." 

"  Very  well.  Don't  you  like  this  view  of  Oxford  ?  I 
always  think  it  is  the  best  of  them  all." 

"  No.  You  don't  see  any  thing  of  half  the  colleges," 
»<aid  Tom,  who  was  very  loth  to  leave  the  other  subject  for 
the  picturesque. 

"  But  you  get  all  the  spires  and  towers  so  well,  and  the 
river  in  the  foreground.  Look  at  that  shadow  of  a  cloud 
skimming  over  Christ  Church  meadow.  It's  a  splendid 
old  place  after  all." 

"  It  may  be  from  a  distance,  to  an  outsider,"  said  Tom ; 


858  T0&   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

'*  but  I  don't  know — it's  an  awfully  chilly,  deadening  kind 
of  place  to  live  in.  There's  something  in  the  life  of  the 
place  that  sits  on  me  like  a  weight,  and  makes  me  feel 
dreary." 

"  How  long  have  you  felt  that  ?  You're  coming  out  in 
a  new  line." 

"  I  wish  I  were.  I  want  a  new  line.  I  don't  care  a 
straw  for  cricket ;  I  hardly  like  pulling ;  and  as  for  those 
wine  parties,  day  after  day,  and  suppers,  night  after  night, 
they  turn  me  sick  to  think  of." 

"  You  have  the  remedy  in  your  own  hands,  at  any  rate," 
said  Hardy,  smiling. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  needn't  go  to  them." 

"  Oh !  one  can't  help  going  to  them.  What  else  is  there 
to  do?" 

Tom  waited  for  an  answer,  but  his  companion  only 
nodded  to  show  that  he  was  listening,  as  he  strolled  on 
down  the  path,  looking  at  the  view. 

"  I  can  say  what  I  feel  to  you,  Hardy.  I  always  have 
been  able,  and  it's  such  a  comfort  to  me  now.  It  was  you 
who  put  these  sort  of  thoughts  into  my  head,  too,  so  you 
ought  to  sympathize  with  me." 

"  I  do,  my  dear  fellow.  But  you'll  be  all  right  again 
in.  a  few  days." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it.  It  isn't  only  what  you  seem  tc 
think,  Hardy.  You  don't  know  me  so  well  as  I  do  yon, 
after  all.  No ;  I'm  not  just  love-sick  and  hipped,  because 
I  can't  go  and  see  her.  That  has  something  to  do  with  it, 
i  dare  say ;  but  it's  the  sort  of  shut-up,  selfish  life  we  lead 
here  that  I  can't  stand.  A  man  isn't  meant  to  live  only 
with  fellows  like  himself,  with  good  allowance?  paid  quar- 
terly, and  no  care  but  how  to  amuse  themselves.  One  i^ 
old  enough  for  something  better  than  that,  I'm  sure." 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  359 

"No  doubt,"  said  Hardy,  with  provoking  taciturnity. 

"  And  the  moment  one  tries  to  break  through  it,  one 
only  gets  into  trouble." 

"  Yes,  there's  a  good  deal  of  danger  of  that  certainly," 
said  Hardy. 

"  Don't  you  often  long  to  be  in  contact  with  some  of  the 
realities  of  life,  with  men  and  women  who  haven't  their 
bread  and  butter  all  ready  cut  for  them?  How  can  a 
place  be  a  university  where  no  one  can  come  up  who 
hasn't  two  hundred  a  year  or  so  to  live  on  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  at  Oxford  four  hundred  years 
ago,  when  there  were  more  thousands  here  than  we  have 
hundreds." 

"  I  don't  see  that.  It  must  have  been  ten  times  as  bad 
then." 

"  Not  at  all.  But  it  must  have  been  a  very  different 
state  of  things  from  ours ;  they  must  have  been  almost  all 
poor  scholars,  who  worked  for  their  living,  or  lived  on 
next  to  nothing." 

"  How  do  you  really  suppose  they  lived  though  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  how  should  you  like  it  now, 
if  we  had  fifty  poor  scholars  at  St.  Ambrose,  besides  us 
servitors — say  ten  tailors,  ten  shoemakers,  and  so  on,  who 
came  up  from  love  of  learning,  and  attended  all  the  lec- 
tures with  us,  and  worked  for  the  present  undergraduates 
while  they  were  hunting  and  cricketing  and  boating  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing.  At  any 
rate,  we  should  save  in  tailors'  bills." 

"  Even  if  we  didn't  get  our  coats  so  well  built,"  said 
Hardy,  laughing.  "  Well,  Brown,  you  have  a  most  cathcn 
lie  taste,  and  'a  capacity  for  taking  in  new  truths/  all  the 
elements  of  a  good  Radical  in  you." 

"  I  tell  you  I  hate  Radicals  !  "  said  Tom,  indignan*.]y. 

"  Well,  here  we  are  in  the  town.    I'll  go  round  by '  The 


360  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Choughs'  and  catch  you  up  before  you  get  to  High 
Street." 

Tom,  left  to  himself,  walked  slowly  on  for  a  little  way, 
and  then  quickly  back  again  in  an  impatient,*  restless, 
manner,  and  was  within  a  few  yards  of  the  corner  where 
they  had  parted  when  Hardy  appeared  again.  He  saw  at 
a  glance  that  something  had  happened. 

"  What  is  it  ?  —  she  is  not  ill  ?  "  he  said,  quickly. 

"  No  ;  quite  well,  her  aunt  says." 

"  You  didn't  see  her  then  ?  " 

u  No.    The  fact  is  she  has  gone  home." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  ENGLEBOUKN  CONSTABLE. 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  splendid  day  in  the  early  part  of 
June,  some  four  or  five  days  after  the  Sunday  on  which 
the  morning  service  at  Englebourn  was  interrupted  by  the 
fire  at  Farmer  Grove's,  David  Johnson,  tailor  and*consta- 
ble  of  the  parish,  was  sitting  at  his  work,  in  a  small  erec- 
tion, half  shed,  half  summer-house,  which  leaned  against 
the  back  of  his  cottage.  Not  that  David  had  not  a  regular 
workshop  with  a  window  looking  into  the  village  street, 
and  a  regular  counter  close  under  it,  on  which  passers-by 
might  see  him  stitching,  and  from  whence  he  could  gossip 
with  them  easily,  as  was  his  wont.  But  although  the  con- 
stable kept  the  king's  peace  and  made  garments  of  all 
kinds  for  his  livelihood,  —  from  the  curate's  frock  down  to 
the  ploughboy's  fustians, — he  was  addicted  for  his  pleasure 
and  solace  to  the  keeping  of  bees.  The  constable's  bees 
inhabited  a  row  of  hives  in  the  narrow  strip  of  garden 
which  ran  away  at  the  back  of  the  cottage.  This  strip  of 
garden  was  bordered  along  the  whole  of  one  side  by  the 
rector's  premises.  Now  honest  David  loved  gossip  well, 
and  considered  it  a  part  of  his  duty  as  constable  to  be  well 
up  in  all  events  and  rumors  which  happened  or  arose 
within  his  liberties.  But  he  loved  his  bees  better  than 
gossip,  and,  as  he  was  now  in  hourly  expectation  that  they 
would  be  swarming,  was  working,  as  has  been  said,  in  his 
summer-house,  that  he  might  be  at  hand  at  the  critical 
moment.  The  rough  table  on  which  he  was  seated  com- 
31 


862  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

manded  a  view  of  the  hives ;  his  big  scissors  and  soma 
shreds  of  velveteen  lay  near  him  on  the  table,  also  the 
street-door  key  and  an  old  shovel,  of  which  the  uses  will 
appear  presently. 

On  his  knees  lay  the  black  velveteen  coat,  the  Sunday 
garment  of  Harry  Winburn,  to  which  he  was  fitting  new 
sleeves.  In  his  exertions  at  the  top  of  the  chimney  in 
putting  out  the  fire,  Harry  had  grievously  damaged  the 
garment  in  question.  The  farmer  had  presented  him  with 
five  shillings  on  the  occasion,  which  sum  was  quite  inade- 
quate to  the  purchase  of  a  new  coat,  and  Harry,  being  too 
proud  to  call  the  farmer's  attention  to  the  special  damage 
which  he  had  suffered  in  his  service,  had  contented  him- 
self with  bringing  his  old  coat  to  be  new-sleeved. 

Harry  was  a  favorite  with  the  constable  on  account  of 
his  intelligence  and  independence,  and  because  of  his  rela- 
tions with  the  farmers  of  Englebourn  on  the  allotment 
question.  Although  by  his  office  the  representative  of  law 
and  order  in  the  parish,  David  was  a  man  of  the  people, 
and  sympathized  with  the  peasantry  more  than  with  the 
farmers.  He  had  passed  some  years  of  his  apprenticeship 
at  Reading,  where  he  had  picked  up  notions  on  political  and 
social  questions  much  ahead  of  the  Englebourn  worthies. 
"When  he  returned  to  his  native  village,  being  a  wise  man, 
he  had  kept  his  new  lights  in  the  background,  and  conse- 
quently, had  succeeded  in  the  object  of  his  ambition,  and 
had  been  appointed  constable.  His  reason  for  seeking 
the  post  was  a  desire  to  prove  that  the  old  joke  as  to  the 
manliness  of  tailors  had  no  application  to  his  case,  and  this 
he  had  established  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  the  neighbor- 
hood by  the  resolute  manner  in  which,  whenever  called  on, 
he  performed  his  duties.  And,  now  that  his  character  was 
made  and  his  position  secure,  he  was  not  so  careful  of  be- 


TOJI  BROWN   AT   OXFORD.  863 

trayingliis  leanings,  and  had  lost  some  custom  amongst  the 
farmers  in  consequence  of  them. 

The  job  on  which  he  was  employed  naturally  turned 
his  thoughts  to  Harry.  He  stitched  away,  now  weighing 
in  his  mind  whether  he  should  not  go  himself  to  Farmer 
Grove,  and  represent  to  him  that  he  ought  to  give  Harry 
a  new  coat ;  now  rejoicing  over  the  fact  that  the  rector 
had  decided  to  let  Harry  have  another  acre  of  the  allot- 
ment land ;  now  speculating  on  the  attachment  of  his  favor- 
ite to  the  gardener's  daughter,  and  whether  he  could  do 
any  thing  to  forward  his  suit.  In  the  pursuit  of  which 
thoughts  he  had  forgotten  all  about  his  bees,  when  sud- 
denly a  great  humming  arose,  followed  by  a  rush  through 
the  air  like  the  passing  of  an  express  train,  which  recalled 
him  to  himself.  He  jumped  from  the  table,  casting  aside 
the  coat,  and,  seizing  the  key  and  shovel,  hurried  out  into 
the  garden,  beating  the  two  together  with  all  his  might. 

The  process  in  question,  known  in  country  phrase  as 
"  tanging,"  is  founded  upon  the  belief  that  the  bees  will 
not  settle  unless  under  the  influence  of  this  peculiar  music; 
and  the  constable,  holding  faithfully  to  the  popular  belief, 
rushed  down  his  garden  "  tanging,"  as  though  his  life  de- 
pended upon  it,  in  the  hopes  that  the  soothing  sound  would 
induce  the  swarm  to  settle  at  once  on  his  own  apple-trees. 

Is  "  tanging  "  a  superstition  or  not  ?  People  learned  in 
bees  ought  to  know,  but  I  never  happened  to  meet  one 
who  had  considered  the  question.  It  is  curious  how  such 
beliefs  or  superstitions  fix  themselves  in  the  popular  mind 
cf  a  country-side,  and  are  held  by  wise  and  simple  alike. 
David  the  constable  was  a  most  sensible  and  open-minded 
man  of  his  time  and  class,  but  Kemble  or  Akerman,  or 
other  learned  Anglo-Saxon  scholar,  would  have  vainly  ex- 
plained to  him  that  "  tang,"  is  but  the  old  word  for  "  to 
hold,"  and  that  the  object  of  "  tanging"  is,  not  to  lure  tho 


364  TOM  BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

bees  with  sweet  music  of  key  and  shovel,  but  to  give  notice 
to  the  neighbors  that  they  have  swarmed,  and  that  the 
owner  of  the  maternal  hive  means  to  hold  on  to  his  right 
to  the  emigrants.  David  would  have  listened  to  the  lec- 
ture with  pity,  and  have  retained  unshaken  belief  in  his 
music. 

In  the  present  case,  however,  the  tanging  was  of  little 
avail,  for  the  swarm,  after  wheeling  once  or  twice  in  the 
air,  disappeared  from  the  eyes  of  the  constable  over  the 
rector's  wall.  He  went  on  "tanging"  violently  for  a 
minute  or  two,  and  then  paused  to  consider  what  was  to 
be  done.  Should  he  get  over  the  wall  into  the  rector's 
garden  at  once,  or  .should  he  go  round  to  ask  leave  to 
carry  his  search  into  the  parsonage  grounds  ?  As  a  man 
and  bee-fancier  he  was  on  the  point  of  following  straight 
at  once,  over  wall  and  fence  ;  but  the  constable  was  also 
strong  within  him.  He  was  not  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
old  Simon,  the  rector's  gardener,  and  his  late  opposition 
to  Miss  Winter  in  the  matter  of  the  singing  also  came  into 
his  mind.  So  he  resolved  that  the  parish  constable  would 
lose  caste  by  disregarding  his  neighbor's  boundaries,  and 
was  considering  what  to  do  next  when  he  heard  a  footstep 
and  short  cousrh  on  the  other  side  the  wall  which  he  rec- 

o 

ognized. 

"  Be  you  there,  Maester  Simon  ?  "  he  called  out.  Where- 
upon the  walker  on  the  other  side  pulled  up,  and  a'ter  a 
second  appeal  answered,  shortly,  — 

«  Ees." 

"  Hev'ee  seed  aught  o'  my  bees  ?  Thaay've  a  bin'  and 
viz  and  gone  off  somweres  athert  the  wall." 

"  E'es,  I  seen  'em." 

"Wer'be'em,  then?" 

u  Aal-amang  wi  ourn  in  the  limes." 


TOM   BROWN  AT   OXFORD.  365 

"  Aal-amang  wi  yourn ! "  exclaimed  the  constable.  "  Drat* 
tie 'em.     Thaay  be  mwore  trouble  than  they  be  wuth." 

"  I  know  as  thaay  wur  yourn  zoon  as  ever  1  sot  eyes  on 
'em,"  old  Simon  went  on. 

"  How  did'ee  know  'em  then  ?  "  asked  the  constable. 

"  Cause  thine  be  a'al  zettin'  crasslegged,"  said  Simon, 
with  a  chuckle.  "  Thee  medst  cum  and  jDick  'em  all  out 
if  thee'st  a  mind  to  't." 

Simon  was  mollified  by  his  own  joke,  and  broke  into  a 
short,  dry,  cachination,  half  laugh,  half  cough ;  while  the 
constable,  who  was  pleased  and  astonished  to  find  his 
neighbor  in  such  a  good-humor,  hastened  to  get  an  empty 
hive  and  a  pair  of  hedger's  gloves,  —  fortified  with  which 
he  left  his  cottage  and  made  the  best  of  his  way  up  street 
towards  the  rectory  gate,  hard  by  which  stood  Simon's 
cottage.  The  old  gardener  was  of  an  impatient  nature,  and 
the  effect  of  the  joke  had  almost  time  to  evaporate,  and 
Simon  was  fast  relapsing  into  his  usual  state  of  mind  tow- 
ards his  neighbor  before  the  latter  made  his  appearance. 

"  Wher'  hast  been  so  long  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  when  the 
constable  joined  him. 

"  I  seed  the  young  missus  and  t'other  young  lady  a 
standin'  talkin'  afore  the  door,"  said  David  ;  "  so  I  stopped 
back,  so  as  not  to  disturve  'em." 

"  Be  'em  gone  in  ?     Who  was  'em  talkin'  to  ?  " 

"  To  thy  missus,  and  thy  daarter  too,  I  b'lieve  'twas. 
Thaay  be  both  at  whoam,  bean't  'em  ?  " 

"  Like  enough.     But  what  was  'em  zayin'  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  heer  nothin'  partic'lar,  but  I  judged  as  'twas 
Bummat  about  Sunday  and  the  fire." 

u  'Tis  na  use  for  thaay  to  go  on  fillin'  our  pleace  wi' 
bottles.     I  dwont  mean  to  take  any  mwore  doctor's  stuff." 

Simon,  it  may  be  said,  by  the  way,  had  obstinately  re* 
fused  to  take  any  medicine  since  his  fall,  and  had  main- 
31* 


366  TOM   BROWN   AT   OXFORD. 

tained  a  constant  war*  on  the  subject,  both  with  his  own 
women  and  with  Miss  "Winter,  whom  he  had  impressed 
more  than  ever  with  a  belief  in  his  wrong-headedness. 

"Ah!  and  how  be  'ee,  tho',  Maester  Simon?"  said 
David ;  "  I  didn't  mind  to  ax  afore.  You  dwon't  feel  no 
wus  for  your  fall,  I  hopes  ?  " 

"  I  feels  a  bit  stiffish  like,  and  as  if  summat  wus  cuttin' 
m'  at  times,  when  I  lifts  up  my  arms." 

"  'Tis  a  mercy  'tis  no  wus,"  said  David ;  "  we  bean't  so 
young  nor  so  lissom  as  we  was,  Maester  Simon." 

To  which  remark  Simon  replied  by  a  grunt.  He  dis- 
liked allusions  to  his  age,  —  a  rare  dislike  among  his  class 
in  that  part  of  the  country.  Most  of  the  people  are  fond 
of  making  themselves  out  older  than  they  are,  and  love  to 
dwell  on  their  experiences,  and  believe,  as  firmly  as  the 
rest  of  us,  that  every  thing  has  altered  for  the  worse  in 
the  parish  and  district  since  their  youth. 

But  Simon,  though  short  of  words  and  temper,  and  an 
uncomfortable  acquaintance  in  consequence,  was  inclined 
to  be  helpful  enough  in  other  ways.  The  constable,  with 
his  assistance,  had  very  soon  hived  his  swarm  of  cross- 
legged  bees. 

Then  the  constable  insisted  on  Simon's  coming  with  him 
and  taking  a  glass  of  ale,  which,  after  a  little  coquetting, 
Simon  consented  to  do.  So,  after  carrying-  his  recapture 
safely  home,  and  erecting  the  hive  on  a  three-legged  stand 
of  his  own  workmanship,  he  hastened  to  rejoin  Simon,  and 
the  two  soon  found  themselves  together  in  the  bar  of  the 
«  Red  Lion." 

The  constable  wished  to  make  the  most  of  this  opportu- 
nity, and  so  began  at  once  to  pump  Simon  as  to  his  inten- 
tions with  regard  to  his  daughter.  But  Simon  was  not 
easy  to  lead  in  any  way  whatever,  and  seemed  in  a  more 
than  usually  no-business-of-yours  line  about  his  daughter. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  SC7 

Whether  he  had  any  one  in  his  eye  for  her  01  not,  David 
could  not  make  out ;  but  one  thing  he  did  make  out,  and  it 
grieved  him  much.  Old  Simon  was  in  a  touchy  and  un- 
friendly state  of  mind  against  Harry,  who,  he  said,  was 
falling  into  bad  ways,  and  beginning  to  think  much  too 
much  of  his  self.  Why  was  he  to  be  wanting  more  allot- 
ment ground  than  any  oiTe  else?  Simon  had  himself 
given  Harry  some  advice  on  the  point,  but  not  to  much 
purpose,  it  would  seem,  as  he  summed  up  his  notions  on 
the  subject  by  the  remark  that,  "  'Twas  waste  of  soap  to 
lather  an  ass." 

The  constable  now  and  then  made  a  stand  for  his  young 
friend,  but  very  judiciously ;  and,  after  feeling  his  way  for 
some  time,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  —  as,  indeed,  the 
truth  was  —  that  Simon  was  jealous  of  Harry's  talent  for 
growing  flowers,  and  had  been  driven  into  his  present 
frame  of  mind  at  hearing  Miss  Winter  and  her  cousin 
talking  about  the  flowers  at  Dame  Winburn's  under  his 
very  nose  for  the  last  four  or  five  days.  They  had  spoken 
thus  to  interest  the  old  man,  meaning  to  praise  Harry  to 
him.  The  fact  was,  that  the  old  gardener  was  one  of  those 
men  who  never  can  stand  hearing  other  people  praised, 
and  think  that  all  such  praise  must  be  meant  in  deprecia- 
tion of  themselves. 

When  they  had  finished  their  ale,  the  afternoon  was 
getting  on,  and  the  constable  rose  to  go  back  to  his  work ; 
while  old  Simon  declared*  his  intention  of  going  down  to 
the  hayfield,  to  see  how  the  mowing  was  getting  on.  He 
was  sure  that  the  hay  would  never  be  made  properly,  now 
that  he  couldn't  be  about  as  much  as  usual. 

In  another  hour  the  coat  was  finished,  and  the  constable, 
being  uneasy  in  his  mind,  resolved  to  carry  the  garment 
home  himself  at  once,  and  to  have  a  talk  with  Dame  Win- 


368  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFOItD. 

burn.     So  he  wrapped  the  coat  in  a  handkerchief,  put  it 
under  his  arm,  and  set  off  down  the  village. 

He  found  the  dame  busy  with  her  washing ;  and  after 
depositing  his  parcel  sat  down  on  the  settle  to  have  a  talk 
with  her.  She  soon  got  on  the  subject  which  was  always 
uppermost  in  her  mind,  her  son's  prospects,  and  she'  poured 
out  to  the  constable  her  troubles.  First  there  was  this 
sweethearting  after  old  Simon's  daughter,  —  not  that  Dame 
Winburn  was  going  to  say  any  thing  against  her,  though 
she  might  have  her  thoughts  as  well  as  other  folk,  and  for 
her  part  she  liked  to  see  girls  that  were  fit  for  something 
besides  dressing  themselves  up  like  their  betters,  —  but 
what  worrited  her  was  to  see  how  Harry  took  it  to  heart. 
He  wasn't  like  himself,  and  she  couldn't  see  how  it  was  all 
to  end.  It  made  him  fractious,  too,  and  he  was  getting 
into  trouble  about  his  work.  He  had  left  his  regular  place, 
and  was  gone  mowing  with  a  gang,  most  of  them  men  out 
of  the  prarish  that  she  knew  nothing  about,  and  likely  not 
to  be  the  best  of  company.  And  it  was  all  very  well  in 
harvest  time,  when  they  could  go  and  earn  good  wages  at 
mowing  and  reaping  anywhere  about,  and  no  man  could 
earn  better  than  her  Harry,  but  when  it  came  to  winter 
again  she  didn't  see  but  what  he  might  find  the  want  of  a 

1  regular  place,  and  then  the  farmers  mightn't  take  him  on ; 
and  his  own  land  that  he  had  got,  and  seemed  to  think  so 
much  of,  mightn't  turn  out  all  he  thought  it  would.  And 
so  in  fact  the  old  lady  was  troubled  in  her  mind,  and  only 
made  the  constable  more  uneasy.  He  had  a  vague  sort  of 
impression  that  he  was  in  some  way  answerable  for  Harry, 
who  was  a  good  deal  with  him,  and  was  fond  of  coming 

•  about  his  place.  And  although  his  cottage  happened  to 
be  next  to  old  Simon's,  which  might  account  for  the  fact 
to  some  extent,  yet  the  constable  was.  conscious  of  having 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  3GS 

talked  to  his  young  friend  on  many  matters  in  a  way  which 
might  have  unsettled  him,  and  encouraged  his  natural 
tendency  to  stand  up" for  his  own  rights  and  independence, 
and  he  knew  well  enough  that  this  temper  was  not  the 
one  which  was  likely  to  keep  a  laboring  man  out  of  trouble 
in  the  parish. 

He  did  not  allow  his  own  misgivings,  however,  to  add 
to  the  widow's  troubles,  but,  on  the  contrary,  cheered  her 
by  praising  up  Harry  as  much  as  ever  she  could  desire, 
and  prophesying  that  all  would  come  right,  and  that  those 
that  lived  would  see  her  son  as  respected  as  any  man  in 
the  parish,  and  he  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  were  church- 
warden before  he  died.  And  then,  astonished  at  his  own 
boldness,  and  feeling  that  he  was  not  capable  of  any  higher 
flight  of  imagination,  the  constable  rose  to  take  his  leave. 
He  asked  where  Harry  was  working,  and,  finding  that  he 
was  at  mowing  in  the  Danes'  Close,  set  off  to  look  after 
him.  The  kind-hearted  constable  could  not  shake  off  the 
feeling  that  something  was  going  to  happen  to  Harry 
which  would  get  him  into  trouble,  and  he  wanted  to  assure 
himself  that  as  yet  nothing  had  gone  wrong.  Whenever 
one  has  this  sort  of  vague  feeling  about  a  friend,  there  is 
a  natural  and  irresistible  impulse  to  go  and  look  after  him, 
and  to  be  with  him. 

The  Danes'  Close  was  a  part  of  the  glebe,  a  large  field 
of  some  ten  acres  or  so  in  extent,  close  to  the  village. 
Two  footpaths  ran  across  it,  so  that  it  was  almost  common 
property,  and  the  village  children  considered  it  as  much 
their  playground  as  the  green  itself.  They  trampled  the 
grass  a  good  deal  more  than  seemed  endurable  in  the  eyes 
of  Simon,  who  managed  the  rector's  farming  operations 
as  well  as  the  garden ;  but  the  children  had  their  own 
way,  notwithstanding  the  threats  he  sometimes  launched 
at  them.     Miss  Winter  would  have  sooner  lost  all  the  hay 


370  TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD. 

than  have  narrowed  their  amusements.  It  was  the  most 
difficult  piece  of  mowing  in  the  parish,  in  consequence  of 
the  tramplings  and  of  the  large  crops  it  bore.  The  Danes, 
or  some  other  unknown  persons,  had  made  the  land  fat, 
perhaps  with  their  carcasses,  and  the  benefit  had  lasted  to 
the  time  of  our  story.  At  any  rate,  the  field  bore  splen- 
did crops,  and  the  mowers  always  got  an  extra  shilling  an 
acre  for  cutting  it,  by  Miss  Winter's  special  order,  which 
was  paid  by  Simon  in  the  most  ungracious  manner,  and 
with  many  grumblings  that  it  was  enough  to  ruin  all  the 
mowers  in  the  country-side. 

As  the  constable  got  over  the  stile  into  the  hayfield,  a 
great  part  of  his  misgivings  passed  out  of  his  head.  He 
was  a  simple,  kindly  man,  whose  heart  lay  open  to  all  in- 
fluences of  scene  and  weather,  and  the  Danes'  Close,  full 
of  life  and  joy  and  merry  sounds,  as  seen  under  the  slant- 
ing rays  of  the  evening  sun,  was  just  the  place  to  rub  all 
the  wrinkles  out  of  him. 

The  constable,  however,  is  not  singular  in  this  matter. 

What  man  amongst  us  all,  if  he  will  think  the  matter 
over  calmly  and  fairly,  can  honestly  say^tkat  there  is  any 
one  spot  on  the  earth's  surface  in  which  he  has  enjoyed  so 
much  real,  wholesome,  happy  life  as  in  a  hayfield  ?  He 
may  have  won  renown  on  horseback  or  on  foot  at  the 
sports  and  pastimes  in  which  Englishmen  glory ;  he  may 
have  shaken  off  all  rivals,  time  after  time,  across  the  vales 
of  Aylesbury,  or  of  Berks,  or  any  other  of  our  famous 
hunting  counties ;  he  may  have  stalked  the  oldest  and  shy- 
est buck  in  Scotch  forests,  and  killed  the  biggest  salmon 
of  the  year  in  the  Tweed,  and  trout  in  the  Thames ;  he 
may  have  made  topping  averages  in  firstrate  matches  of 
cricket ;  or  have  made  long  and  perilous  marches,  dear  to 
memory,  over  boggy  moor,  or  mountain,  or  glacier;  he 
may  have   successfully  attended  many  breakfast-parties 


TOM    BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  371 

within  drive  of  May  Fair,  on  velvet  lawns,  surrounded  by 
all  the  fairy  land  of  pomp  and  beauty  and  luxury  which 
London  can  pour  out ;  he  may  have  shone  at  private  the- 
atricals and  at-homes,  his  voice  may  have  sounded  over 
hushed  audiences  at  St.  Stephen's,  or  in  the  law  courts ; 
cr  he  may  have  had  good  times  in  any  other  scenes  of 
pleasure  or  triumph  open  to  Englishmen  ;  but  I  much 
doubt  whether,  on  putting  his  recollections  fairly  and  qui- 
etly together,  he  would  not  say  at  last  that  the  fresh-mown 
hayfield  is  the  place  where  he  has  spent  the  most  hours 
which  he  would  like  to  live  over  again,  the  fewest  which 
he  would  wish  to  forget. 

As  children,  we  stumble  about  the  new-mown  hay,  rev- 
elling in  the  many  colors  of  the  prostrate  grass  and  wild 
flowers,  and  in  the  power  of  tumbling  where  we  please 
without  hurting  ourselves ;  as  small  boys,  we  pelt  one 
another,  and  the  village  schoolgirls,  and  our  nursemaids, 
and  young-lady  cousins  with  the  hay,  till,  hot  and  weary, 
we  retire  to  tea  or  syllabub  beneath  the  shade  of  some 
great  oak  or  elm  standing  up  like  a  monarch  out  of  the 
fair  pasture ;  or,  following  the  mowers,  we  rush  with 
eagerness  on  the  treasures  disclosed  by  the  scythe-stroke, 
—  the  nest  of  the  unhappy  late-laying  titlark,  or  careless 
field-mouse;  as  big  boys,  we  toil  ambitiously  with  the 
spare  forks  and  rakes,  or  climb  into  the  wagons  and  re- 
ceive with  open  arms  the  delicious  load  as  it  is  pitched  up 
from  below,  and  rises  higher  and  higher  as  we  pass  along 
the  long  lines  of  haycocks ;  a  year  or  two  later,  we  are 
strolling  there  with  our  first  sweethearts,  our  souls  and 
tongues  loaded  with  sweet  thoughts  and  soft  speeches ;  we 
take  a  turn  with  the  scythe  as  the  bronzed  mowers  lie  in 
the  shade  for  their  short  rest,  and  willingly  pay  our  foot- 
ing for  the  feat.  Again,  we  come  back  with  book  in 
pocket,  and  our  own  children  tumbling  about  as  we  did 


£  "2  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

before  them;  now  romping  with  them,  and  smothering 
them  with  the  sweet-smelling  load  —  now  musing  and 
reading  and  dozing  away  the  delicious  summer  evenings. 
And  so  shall  we  not  come  back  to  the  end,  enjoying  as 
grandfathers  the  lovemaking  and  the  rompings  of  younger 
generations  yet  ? 

Were  any  of  us  ever  really  disappointed  or  melancholy 
in  a  hayfield  ?  Did  we  ever  lie  fairly  back  on  a  haycock 
and  look  up  into  the  blue  sky,  and  listen  to  the  merry 
sounds,  the  whetting  of  scythes  and  the  laughing  prattle 
of  women  and  children,  and  think  evil  thoughts  of  the 
world  or  our  brethren  ?  Not  we !  or  if  we  have  so  done, 
we  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves,  and  deserve  never 
to  be  out  of  town  again  during  hay  harvest. 

There  is  something  in  the  sights  and  sounds  of  a  hay- 
field  which  seems  to  touch  the  same  chord  in  one  as  Low- 
ell's lines  in  the  "  Lay  of  Sir  Launfal,"  which  ends,  — 

"  For  a  cap  and  bells  our  lives  we  pay ; 

We  wear  out  our  lives  with  toiling  and  tasking; 
It  is  only  Heaven  that  is  given  away ; 

It  is  only  God  may  be  had  for  the  asking. 
There  is  no  price  set  on  the  lavish  summer, 
And  June  may  be  had  by  the  poorest  comer." 

But  the  philosophy  of  the  hayfield  remains  to  be  writ- 
ten. Let  us  hope  that  whoever  takes  the  subject  in  hand 
will  not  dissipate  all  its  sweetness  in  the  process  of  the 
inquiry  wherein  the  charm  lies. 

The  constable  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  speculating 
on  his  own  sensations,  but  was  very  glad,  nevertheless, 
to  find  his  spirits  rising  as  he  stepped  into  the  Danes' 
Close.  All  the  hay  was  down,  except  a  small  piece  in 
the  further  corner,  which  the  mowers  were  upon.  There 
were  groups  of  children  in  many  parts  of  the  field,  and 
women  to  look  after  them,  mostly  sitting  on  the  fresh 


TOM   BROTVN    AT    OXFORD.  373 

swarth,  working  and  gossiping,  while  the  little  on  3S  played 
about.  He  had  not  gone  twenty  yards  before  he  was 
stopped  by  the  violent  crying  of  a  child;  and/ turning 
towards  the  voice,  he  saw  a  little  girl  of  six  or  seven,  who 
had  strayed  from  her  mother,  scrambling  out  of  the  ditch, 
and  wringing  her  hands  in  an  agony  of  pain  and  terror. 
The  poor  little  thing  had  fallen  into  a  bed  of  nettles,  and 
was  very  much  frightened,  and  not  a  little  hurt.  The 
constable  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  soothing  her  as  well 
as  he  could,  and  hurrying  along  till  he  found  some  dock- 
leaves,  sat  down  with  her  on  his  knee,  and  rubbed  her 
hands  with  the  leaves,  repeating  the  old  saw  — 

"  Out  nettle, 
In  dock : 
Dock  shall  ha* 
Anew  smock; 
Nettle  shan't 
Ha*  narrunV 

What  with  rubbing,  and  the  constable's  kind  manner, 
and  listening  to  the  doggerel  rhyme,  and  feeling  that  nettle 
would  get  her  deserts,  the  little  thing  soon  ceased  crying. 
But  several  groups  had  been  drawn  towards  the  place,  and 
amongst  the  rest  came  Miss  Winter  and  her  cousin,  who 
had  been  within  hearing  of  the  disaster.  The  constable 
began  to  feel  very  nervous  and  uncomfortable,  when  he 
looked  up  from  his  charitable  occupation,  and  suddenly 
found  the  rector's  daughter  close  to  him.  But  his  ner- 
vousness was  uncalled  for.  The  sight  of  what. he  wa3 
about,  and  of  the  tender  way  in  which  he  was  handling  the 
child,  drove  all  remembrance  of  his  heresies  and  contu- 
maciousness,  in  the  matter  of  psalmody,  out  of  her  head. 
She  greeted  him  with  frankness  and  cordiality,  and,  pres- 
ently— when  he  had  given  up  his  charge  to  the  mother, 
who  was  inclined  at  first  to  be  bard  wiih  the  poor  little 
32 


874  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

Bobbing  truant  —  came  up,  and  said  she  wished  to  speak  a 
few  words  to  him. 

David  was  highly  delighted  at  Miss  Winter's  manner ; 
but  he  walked  along  by  her  side  not  quite  comfortable  in 
his  mind,  for  fear  lest  she  should  start  the  old  subject  of 
dispute,  and  then  his  duty,  as  a  public  man,  would  have  to 
be  done  at  all  risk  of  offending  her.  He  was  much  com- 
forted when  she  began  by  asking  him  whether  he  had  seen 
much  of  Widow  Winburn's  son  lately. 

David  admitted  that  he  generally  saw  him  every  day. 

Did  he  know  that  he  had  left  his  place,  and  had  quar- 
relled with  Mr.  Tester  ? 

Yes,  David  knew  that  Harry  had  had  words  with 
Farmer  Tester;  but  Farmer  Tester  was  a  sort  that  it. 
was  very  hard  not  to  have  words  with. 

"  Still,  it  is  very  bad,  you  know,  for  so  young  a  man  to 
be  quarrelling  with  the  farmers,"  said  Miss  Winter. 

"  'Twas  the  varmer  as  quarrelled  wi'  he  ;  you  see,  miss,*' 
David  answered,  "  which  makes  all  the  odds.  He  cum 
to  Harry  all  in  a  fluster,  and  said  as  how  he  must  drow  up 
the  land  as  he'd  a'got,  or  he's  place  —  one  or  t'other  on 
'em.  And,  so  you  see,  miss,  as  Harry  wur  kind  o'  druv 
to  it.  Twarn't  likely  as  he  wur  to  drow  up  the  land  now 
as  he  wur  just  reppin'  the  benefit  ov  it,  and  all  for  Var- 
mer Tester's  place,  wich  be  no  sich  gurt  things,  miss, 
arter  all." 

"  Very  likely  not ;  but  I  fear  it  may  hinder  his  getting 
employment.  The  other  farmers  will  not  take  him  on 
now,  if  they  can  help  .it." 

"  No ;  thaay  falls  out  wi'  one  another  bad  enough,  and 
calls  all  manner  o'  names.  But  thaay  can't  abide  a  poor 
man  to  speak  his  mind,  nor  take  his  own  part,  not  one  on 
'em,''  said  David,  looking  at  Miss  Winter,  as  if  doubtful 


TOM   BROWN    AT    OXFORD.  375 

how  she  might  take  his  strictures ;  but  she  went  on,  with 
out  any  show  of  dissent, — 

"  I  shall  try  to  get  him  to  work  for  my  father ;  but  I 
am  sorry  to  find  that  Simon  does  not  seem  to  like  the  idea 
of  taking  him  on.  It  is  not  easy  always  to  make  out 
Simon's  meaning.  "When  I  spoke  to  him,  he  said  some- 
thing about  a  bleating  sheep  losing  a  bite  ;  but  I  should 
think  this  young  man  is  not  much  of  a  talker  in  general?" 
—she  paused. 

"  That's  true,  miss,"  said  David,  energetically ;  "  there 
aint  a  quieter-spoken  or  steadier  man  at  his  work  in  the 
parish." 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Miss  Winter, 
"  and  I  hope  we  may  soon  do  something  for  him.  But 
what  I  want  you  to  do  just  now,  is  to  speak  a  word  to  him 
about  the  company  he  seems  to  be  getting  into." 

The  constable  looked  somewhat  aghast  at  this  speech  of 
Miss  Winter,  but  did  not  answer,  not  knowing  to  what 
she  was  alluding.  She  saw  that  he  did  not  understand, 
and  went  on, — 

"  He  is  mowing  to-day  with  a  gang  from  the  heath  and 
the  next  parish ;  I  am  sure  they  are  very  bad  men  for 
him  to  be  with.  I  was  so  vexed  when  I  found  Simon  had 
given  them  the  job  ;  but  he  said  they  would  get  it  all  down 
in  a  day,  and  be  done  with  it,  and  that  was  all  he  cared 
for." 

"  And  'tis  a  fine  day's  work,  miss,  for  five  men,"  said 
David,  looking  over  the  field ;  "  and  'tis  good  work,  too,  you 
mind  the  swarth  else,"  and  he  picked  up  a  handful  of  the 
fallen  grass  to  show  her  how  near  the  ground  it  was  cut. 

ft  Oh,  yes  ;  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  very  good  mowers, 
but  they  are  not  good  men,  I'm  sure.  There,  do  you  see 
now  who  it  is  that  is  bringing  them  beer  ?  I  hope  you 
will  see  Widow  Winburn's  son,  and  speak  to  him,  and  try 


376  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

to  keep  him  out  of  bad  company.  We  should  be  all  to 
Bony  if  he  were  to  get  into  trouble." 

David  promised  to  do  his  best,  and  Miss  "Winter  wished 
him  good-evening,  and  rejoined  her  cousin. 

"  Well,  Katie,  will  he  do  jour  behest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  I  think  he  is  the  best  person-  to  do 
it.  Widow  Winburn  thinks  her  son  minds  him  more  than 
any  one." 

"  Do  you  know  I  don't  think  it  will  ever  go  right.  I'm 
sure  she  doesn't  care  the  least  for  him." 

"  Oh !  you  have  only  just  seen  her  once  to-day  for  two 
or  three  minutes." 

"  And  then,  that  wretched  old  Simon  is  so  perverse 
about  it,"  said  the  cousin.  "  You  will  never  manage 
him." 

"  He  is  very  provoking,  certainly ;  but  I  get  my  own 
way  generally,  in  spite  of  him.  And  it  is  such  a  perfect 
plan;   isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh !  charming,  if  you  can  only  bring  it  about." 

"  Now  we  must  be  really  going  home,  papa  will  be  get* 
ting  restless."  So  the  young  ladies  left  the  hayfield  deep 
in  castle-building  for  Harry  Winburn  and  the  gardener's 
daughter,  Miss  Winter  being  no  more  able  to  resist  a  tale 
of  true  love  than  her  cousin,  or  the  rest  of  her  sex. 
They  would  have  been  more  or  less  than  women  if  they 
had  not  taken  an  interest  in  so  absorbing  a  passion  as 
poor  Harry's.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  rectory 
gate  they  had  installed  him  in  the  gardener's  cottage 
with  his  bride,  and  mother  (for  there  would  be  plenty  of 
room  for  the  widow,  and  it  would  be  so  convenient  to 
have  the  laundry  close  at  hand),  and  had  pensioned  old 
Simon,  and  sent  him  and  his  old  wife  to  wrangle  away 
the  rest  of  their  time  in  the  widow's  cottage.  Castle- 
building  is  a  delightful  and  harmless  exercise. 


TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD.  377 

Meantime,  David  the  constable  had  gone  towards  the 
mowers,  who  were  taking  a  short  rest  before  finishing  off 
the  last  half  acre  which  remained  standing.  The  person 
whose  appearance  had  so  horrified  Miss  Winter  was 
drawing  beer  for  them  from  a  small  barrel.  This  was  an 
elderly,  raw-boned  woman  with  a  skin  burnt  as  brown  as 
that  of  any  of  the  mowers.  She  wore  a  man's  hat  and 
spencer,  and  had  a  strong,  harsh  voice,  and  altogether  was 
not  a  prepossessing  person.  She  went  by  the  name  of 
Daddy  Cowell  in  the  parish,  and  had  been  for  years  a 
proscribed  person.  She  lived  up  on  the  heath,  often 
worked  in  the  fields,  took  in  lodgers,  and  smoked  a 
short  clay  pipe.  These  eccentricities,  when  added  to  her 
half-male  clothing,  were  quite  enough  to  account  for  the 
sort  of  outlawry  in  which  she  lived.  Miss  Winter,  and 
other  good  people  of  Englebourn,  believed  her  capable 
of  any  crime,  and  the  children  were  taught  to  stop  talk- 
ing and  playing,  and  run  away  when  she  came  near 
them  ;  but  the  constable,  who  had  had  one  or  two  search- 
warrants  to  execute  in  her  house,  and  had  otherwise  had 
frequent  occasions  of  getting  acquainted  with  her  in  the 
course  of  his  duties,  had  by  no  means  so  evil  an  opinion  of 
her.  He  had  never  seen  much  harm  in  her,  he  had  been 
heard  to  say,  and  she  never  made  pretence  to  much  good. 
Nevertheless,  David  was  by  no  means  pleased  to  see  her 
acting  as  purveyor  to  the  gang  which  Harry  had  joined. 
He  knew  how  such  contact  would  damage  him  in  the  eyes 
of  all  the  parochial  respectabilities,  and  was  anxious  to  do 
his  best  to  get  clear  of  it. 

With  these  views  he  went  up  to  the  men,  who  were 
resting  under  a  large  elm  tree,  and  complimented  them 
on  their  day's  work.  They  were  themselves  well  satisfied 
with  it,  and  with  one  another.  When'men  have  had  six- 
teen hours',  or  so,  hard  mowing  in  companjr,  and  none  of 
32* 


378  TOM   BROWN   AT    OXFORD. 

them  can  say  that  the  others  have  not  done  their  fair 
share,  they  are  apt  to  respect  one  another  more  at  the 
end  of  it.  It  was  Harry's  first  day  with  this  gang,  who 
were  famous  for  going  about  the  neighborhood,  and  doing 
great  feats  in  hay  and  wheat  harvest.  They  were  satis- 
fied with  him  and  he  with  them,  none  the  less  so  probably 
in  his  present  frame  of  mind,  because  they  also  were  loose 
on  the  world,  servants  of  no  regular  master.  It  was  a 
bad  time  to  make  his  approaches,  the  constable  saw ;  so, 
after  sitting  oy  Harry  until  the  gang  rose  to  finish  off 
their  work  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  and  asking  him  to 
come  round  by  his  cottage  on  his  way  home,  which  Harry 
promised  to  do,  he  walked  back  to  the  village. 

5 


$*7 


